Erebor, 3022: Kinseekers, A Courtship Year Story 3
by summerald
Summary: Post LOTR AU! King Fili and his brother Prince Kili face the reality that the oldest members of Thorin Oakenshield's original company are in their final years. When Kili's intended, the Healer Nÿr, reveals that old Dwalin may not have much more time to live, a race is on to find the one person in Middle Earth whom Dwalin wants desperately to meet before he dies.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: Welcome to Kinseekers! This is a new work that follows the stories Durin's Day, 3022 and Erebor, 3022: Ravenspeakers. These stories are following the course of a single year from one Durin's Day to the next. Rough timeline: Durin's Day = December; Ravenspeakers = Jan/Feb; Kinseekers = April/May.**__**While this work can stand alone, I invite you to the prequels as well! All feedback welcome, even if you're coming late to the story. A quick review or a PM will do!**_

Chapter One

"We have letters back from the envoy to Minas Tirith," Fili reported as he sat himself down in one of the new wood and leather chairs, right next to his brother.

Kili, already comfortably stretched out with his booted feet on a footrest, raised his eyebrows. "And? They accepted the treaty?"

"They did," Fili answered. He was admiring the view of the sunset over the lake. The chairs faced the newly discovered wall of windows in the great room of the royal family's quarters, and from here they could see a broad view down the mountain to the long lake.

"Good to know," Kili smiled, glad to see his brother sinking into the plump cushions and relaxing. Sitting here together at the end of their busy days had become a new tradition. For the last two months they had been fascinated with watching the view change with the seasons. There were already signs of spring flowers down at lake level.

Lady Nÿr, healer trainee and Kili's intended, brought mugs of hot tea—the blackleaf variety they all liked to drink in the afternoons. Her days were as busy as theirs, but in the infirmary.

Kili took the mug she handed him and when their eyes met, his brows drew together.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

Nÿr handed the second mug to Fili, who looked up, his expression concerned.

"I wondered if I might have a word," she said carefully. "With you both, I mean."

"Speak your mind," Kili said.

"It's about your cousin, Dwalin," she said. "His health." She pushed her single, long black braid off her shoulder.

"Dwalin's a tough old guy," Kili shrugged.

"Getting pretty old," Fili agreed. "Just age."

Nÿr looked at her hands. "You're right, of course. But…there's something more. The master physician and I paid him a visit this morning."

Both brothers looked concerned now.

"He's quite ill, Kili," she said, meeting her intended's eyes, feeling sorry to be delivering this news. "It's a wasting disease. A mass near his kidneys." She touched her own stomach to show. "He's reached the stage where his time may not be much longer."

She regretted bearing the news. Both brothers looked shocked.

"How long?" Fili managed, his voice husky.

Nyr shook her head. "Maybe two months. No more." She looked at Kili. "I wanted to ask you if we could move him here," she held a hand out to the light filled rooms. "It would be easier to care for him, and he could see outside..."

"Sure. Yes. Whatever you want," Kili said, eyes wide. She reached out and their hands met. Kili could see unshed tears welling in her eyes when she let go and left.

The brothers were silent. The old dwarf was the closest living elder they had, and he was a venerable hero to the people of Erebor, many times over.

In Kili's mind, losing Dwalin would be like losing their uncle, Thorin Oakenshield, all over again.

* * *

Nÿr excused herself, leaving her intended and his brother to themselves. She regretted delivering the bad news, but it was part of a healer's job. She and the master physician had been discussing this all day…how to tell them. They had settled on it being Nÿr's task.

"You are nearly ready for your physician's exams," he'd said to her. "And guiding our people through the change of death is as important as healing their injuries. It is a quite a lucky thing to die of old age, after all." He reminded her of old Bari, her long dead first teacher when he spoke that way.

But Nÿr took a moment to press her hands to her eyes and calm her feelings. At least she had managed to tell Kili and his brother together. They were, as Lady An had once told her, the heart and soul of the mountain. As long as they were together, they would meet the challenges of life as one.

* * *

Two days later, Kili called for the assistants and pages to leave, clearing the council chamber. Then, with only the seven councilors present in their weekly meeting, Fili introduced the idea that it was time for a new plan regarding the defense of Erebor.

"It's time we changed things around," Kili said. "Erebor was full of visitors for the negotiations back on Durin's Day. Too many people took note of our troop strengths, our duty schedules and our security routines. The truth is we're not fighting ranks of orcs and goblins out in the open anymore, but we still have enemies. The plot by the Slagheads and the _Kolozh_ goblins proves it. We need fresh tactics."

"Kili's right," Fili spoke up. "From now on, our enemies are more likely to be spies or opportunists than armies."

"So we regroup and present unexpected conditions," Dwalin summed up. "Good thinking," he nodded to Kili.

"Yes. What's the plan?" Gloin asked, his expression showing his eagerness for a new challenge.

"First, I'm completely reorganizing the guard into new regiments with new commanders, including the King's Guard," Fili stated.

Eyebrows raised but no one objected.

"And I'm reassigning Kili to Dwalin. We'll call him Weaponsmaster in training, but the reality will be Spymaster in residence."

Dwalin grunted, nodding his approval and willingness to take on his part.

No one else at the table was fooled, however. Old Dwalin was more frail by the day, it seemed. While no one said it, they could all see that he was unwell. Kili would be his replacement.

"There's also a new prince to train, and I trust my brother and my own teacher to oversee it," Fili said. No one was fooled by that, either. They understood their King's anger over the recent kidnapping of his heir. Fjalar had been lucky to come out of it relatively unscathed. The lad was still young, but they all agreed it was time he learned to defend himself like a proper warrior.

"The only thing we aren't reorganizing is the oversight of the treasury," Fili nodded to Gloin. "I think the security there has been sufficiently secret to keep it unchanged. We've looked at the Slaghead plan and all agree that the gold they were smuggling came from private hands, not from the Treasury."

Everyone nodded.

The biggest secret of the treasury, however, was that it was hidden away from anyone with a drop of Durin's blood in their veins. It had been Fili's idea on the day he had been crowned. The gold was sealed in separate vaults, spread around the mountain. The vaults were guarded and managed by three separate teams who verified contents and controlled access, serving as checks and balances against each other.

It was the only way, Fili had said, to stop the dragon sickness cycle of madness.

Fili had no intention of succumbing the way his uncle had.

Kili agreed. The council affirmed it. Old Balin himself had been in favor.

And it worked.

* * *

The new security plan included the reassignment of Kili's young archer cadet, Skirfir.

Kili had the pleasure of calling the lad in to his new ready room in the training complex.

"I'm hand picking a few lads for a special assignment, Skirf," he said. "Long term, high security. It will take you away from your mates in the Guard, though. If you don't think you're interested, tell me now before you learn anything you shouldn't know."

"A…special assignment?" Skirfir blinked, considered, and stood taller. "Count me in, sir."

Kili smiled. "Good lad. Old Dwalin isn't just old," he began. "He's ill. Nÿr thinks he may have a couple months, no more." Kili tried to keep his feelings at bay. It was hard to watch his old teacher and friend fading like this.

"We're taking care of him," he said, quietly. In fact, they'd already moved him into the Annex, where he was surrounded by the rooms his own brother had renovated and where he could be taken out to sit in the sun and see the sky.

Nÿr was with him nearly all the time now.

"After this trouble with the Slagheads, we're also making major changes to the troop structure," he said. "Including changes in command assignments. We need to make ourselves unpredictable to them."

Skirfir looked stunned. "You're not giving up your command…?"

Kili smiled. "I am. Well, I'm handing over command of the Erebor Guard in favor a new job—publically I'm the Weaponsmaster in Training," he said, indicating the job long held by Dwalin. "Privately, I'm the Spymaster—which, let's face it, is really what I've been doing for the last year anyhow."

Skirfir looked shocked to hear it spelled out.

"And here's where you come in. It's time to train Fjalar in earnest, Skirf. When Fili and I trained, we trained together. But the age difference between Fjalar and his little brother Gunnar is too much. And, to be honest, Fjalar will need a shield-brother who is wiser and stronger than he is for a good long while."

Skirfir's eyes went wide.

"My lord…?"

"Fili and I are in agreement about this, Skirfir. We think you're the right person for this role. Fjalar already likes you and trusts you. We've seen you together—and I think you would not dislike spending time with him."

"I…" the lad looked shocked. "I'm just miner stock, my Lord. Hardly the kind of…"

Kili held up a hand. "You went to Dale with me. Who'd I take? You, the Hill Brothers, and Bofur."

Skirfir nodded.

"Bofur: oddball miner to his core. He's gotten me out of more trouble over the years than I could tell you." He smiled. "It's not about bloodlines in battle, Skirf. It's about brains and guts. You have them both. But I won't force you to this assignment. Accept it because you really want to. There's no dishonor in telling me if it's not for you. I can respect that."

Skirfir frowned a moment. "I didn't have to think twice when I saw him about to get hit by a goblin," Skirfir said in a firm voice.

Kili knew this. A month back, Skirf had stepped between his prince and a _kolozh_ goblin warrior, taking the hit to protect the younger lad.

"And I don't need to think twice now."

Kili smiled. He knew he had not misjudged the lad. He reached out and offered his hand.

Shyly, Skirfir grasped it in the traditional warrior's welcome.

"Cadet Skirfir, I am pleased to promote you to the rank of Lieutenant of the Prince's Guard."

"Mahal," the lad breathed. "Yes, sir!"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Nÿr the healer lass, betrothed of Prince Kili, found her new patient weeping in his daybed, despite the sunny corner of the great room and the comfortable pillows.

Old Dwalin had harassed both Kili and his brother the night before, querulous and demanding, insisting that a certain wooden box be brought from his old quarters. She had banished Fili, seeing his expression turning into what she secretly called "Fili the Stubborn" mode. Kili, somewhat taken aback by all the fussing, had jumped to comply with his old teacher's wishes, looking more like one of the King's pages who'd just been reprimanded than a fully grown royal prince with years of command experience.

Nÿr still didn't know whether it had been cute or outrageous.

What she did know is that Dwalin had spent all morning and most of the afternoon going through the contents of the box: letters. Lots of old letters.

Now she decided that he'd spent enough time letting himself be so upset.

She brought him calming tea and set it on the side table. While the emotions were unusual for Dwalin, they were not so unusual for someone as sick as he was. Lucky for her, he was not the first old warrior she had helped through what the healers called the last stage of life. She reached for his hand and gently squeezed, then massaged his palm with her thumb.

"Ah, lassie," he said, his voice tight. "I shouldn't be doing this." He looked at her, unabashed at his tears. "But I have to." He squeezed her hand back.

Nÿr didn't speak. She used a damp cloth to wipe his forehead, then the stream of tears on his face. It did nothing, medically speaking. It was purely for comfort; an excuse for the consolation of touch.

"I have a confession," he stated. "And I need to tell you because I think you're the only one who can tell me how to fix it."

Nÿr sat in the chair beside the day bed. This, too, was not so unusual for someone facing their last weeks. The need to make amends. She met his eyes and smiled a little, hoping to calm him. "I'm here," she said softly. "I'm listening."

This prompted more tears and his angry gesture to dash them away. She put the damp cloth in his hand and he used it, snorting at himself.

She let be and waited while he gathered himself. Finally, he picked up the letter he'd been reading and handed it to her.

She accepted it. "You want me to read it?"

He nodded.

She read it in silence.

_To Dwalin, Son of Fundin, Lord of Erebor_

_Durin's Day, 2980_

_Honored Sir:_

_With regret I write to you to inform you of the passing of Hazar, Captain of the Hill Guard, 2__nd__ Battalion. She passed as the result of complications following childbirth, on 21__st__ November, here in the Iron Hills. The bairn, a lass, is healthy. In keeping with our laws, the orphan will be fostered to a lady of good character and provided for through a royal stipend._

_Our deepest sympathies,_

_Hlió, Master Physician, Iron Hills._

Nÿr stared.

_Oh, my. He has a daughter_, she thought. _And he's never told anyone._

Did the King and his brother know this?

Maybe not. If Dwalin had not wed the lass—this Hazar, Captain of the Hill Guard—then the child would not be considered his. She would be counted an orphan child and ward of the Iron Hills.

2980…two years after an orc incursion from the south. The Iron Hills had sent reinforcements to Erebor, and this Hazar must have been with them.

Not unreasonable to think that a pair of warriors would find solace in each other's arms.

"I tried to tell myself she was better off with her mother's people. I have no rights, I know, since we'd not wed."

Nÿr saw the regret in the old warrior's sad eyes.

"And then I met you," he looked at her fondly. "Daughter of Durin, raised by a foster mother." He let out a quick laugh. "And found myself wishing you were her." He smiled at her, his tears in earnest now, and she rose to embrace him.

"Oh, Dwalin. I'm far too old to be her. She's got to be closer to Fjalar's age—just ready to apprentice in a craft." She held him, feeling the pent up tension in his shoulders. "I'm sure her foster mother loves her dearly."

"There's another letter," he managed to say. "I haven't found it yet. About twenty years later. The physician writes to tell me her foster mother died of an infection."

"That was my chance to step up," he admitted. "But things were so busy. Erebor was not safe. The dark forces were at our door." He looked up at the ceiling, as if remembering the strain of those lean years. "I told myself the lass was safer staying hidden away." He shook his head.

They were quiet for a few minutes, and Nÿr saw him gathering himself and calming a bit.

"Now things are better. But I know she's left with no one. And I don't know how to fix this. Tell me what to do." he said, his eyes imploring. "If you were her age, would you have wanted a dying old warrior to come find you after all these years? Is she better off never knowing me?" he whispered.

Nÿr couldn't stop her own tears now. She laughed. "Look at this. You've got me going, too." She borrowed the damp cloth and used it.

Mahal.

"Ruby spoiled me," she told him. "All the ladies at her place did. But I can tell you—if I had a chance to see my father when I was the age she is now—It would have meant everything." She bit her lip.

Dwalin's hand came up to cup her face and she leaned forward until they touched foreheads.

"Can you help me find her?" he whispered. "Is there even time?"

She gripped his hand, and he squeezed tight.

"I will help you try," she whispered back. "I promise."

* * *

Kili, son of Durin, Prince of Erebor, came home to find his intended holding another dwarf in her arms.

It was his old teacher Dwalin, and the ill, aging dwarf was sobbing.

When Nÿr looked up and met his eyes, Kili saw her tears as well.

He wanted nothing more than go to her and comfort her—but she made a motion with her hand to shoo him off.

Certainly he didn't understand the complexities of healer duties. He made an _are you really all right?_ face, saw her nod once, and held up a hand in acquiescence. He pointed to the rooms on his brother's side of the family complex and fled.

Fili stood in the middle of his family, the two younger lads swirling about him in a mock battle, his youngest lass, Iri, in his arms. Fjalar was disagreeing with his mother about something that Fili was obviously trying to mitigate.

His brother spared him a glance, then looked back at his oldest son and Lady wife.

Then looked back at Kili.

"What's wrong?" he demanded, holding up a hand to his oldest son.

Lady An grabbed the younger lads and pointed them to the playroom. They vanished in a game of chase.

Kili just hooked a thumb back toward the great room, not sure how to describe what he'd seen.

"Dwalin? Is he badgering you again?"

"No…" Kili still couldn't quite explain it with the kids in the room. He held up an open hand and shrugged.

Lady An put Iri in her brother's arms. "Take her back to Nanna, please, Fjalar?"

Fjalar looked exasperated but didn't object. With an obedient nod, her took his little sister and followed his brothers.

Kili felt Nÿr come up behind him then, her hand on his back. He pulled her into a hug.

"What was that about?" he asked. She was obviously sniffing and upset.

She held the letter out to Fili. Lady An stood beside her husband to read along, one hand covering her mouth. She looked up to stare at Nÿr.

Fili looked stricken and handed the letter to his brother.

Kili read.

"He has _a daughter_?" His eyebrows were up.

"Does he think it's true?" Lady An said in a hushed voice.

"He does," Nÿr confirmed. "He says there's a second letter he hasn't found yet. He's still going through that box. It was about twenty years ago, telling him the lassie's foster mother was dead. He didn't answer it because things were so dire here."

"He was protecting her," An murmured.

"Is there even time to do anything about this?" Fili asked.

Kili saw Nÿr shrug. "He's got a couple months, I think. And I'm not really sure how long it takes to travel to the Iron Hills and back," she said.

"Five days, each way," An said. She was from the Iron Hills, after all. Her parents still lived there. "But the bigger question is whether we could even find the child," she looked at Fili. "There are seven settlements in the Hills. She could be living in any one of them."

"The letter doesn't even give her name," Fili pointed out.

"But whoever she is," Kili looked at his intended with a deeper understanding of the issue. "She's a daughter of Durin."

An frowned. "Meaning...?"

"She's got to be the only person anywhere in the Hills who can talk to a raven," Kili said. "That makes her our business."

Kili looked at his brother, who looked skeptical.

"Dain's son is not likely to see it that way," Fili said slowly. "If Dwalin never married her mother, he has no rights to the child."

"Beka," Nÿr said to them.

Kili looked at her.

"He told me her name is Beka."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Nÿr saw everyone looking at Fili, who sighed. "Well," he said. "Kili can't go, Nÿr is the best one to stay here with Dwalin, and An's the expert at Hill matters…but we all know Dain's son only talks to me."

No one spoke.

"_Hurmelgang," _he said.

"Hurmel-what?" Nÿr asked.

"The Honor Journey," Kili said, not happy. "It's the last part of the Forty Three Days commemoration."

"Ah," Nÿr said, though she still felt confused. She had not been in Erebor during the Forty Three Days in March and April of 3019, but she'd been present at Kili's side for the long series commemoration events of the past month. In short, the Easterlings had attacked Erebor and Dale three years ago during the great war. The preparations, the battle, and the siege had lasted forty three days. The tragedy of it was still quite fresh in the minds of Erebor's people, and the month of March had been packed with ceremonies and observances. She had accompanied Kili to most of them, and discovered he was the heroic focus of many.

"Right before March that year," Lady An said, "We sent a secret caravan of mothers and children to safety in the Iron Hills."

Fili nodded. "At the same time, the Iron Hills sent battalions and supplies to us here."

Nÿr looked down. She, of course, had been safe in Ered Luin three years ago.

"It was all over by this time in April," Kili explained. "But families who had sent loved ones to the Hills still hadn't reunited. So a group of Guard and kin gathered at Ravenhill on April 19th. They left together for a five day trip to the Iron Hills to get their loved ones and bring them back. Someone called it the _Hurmelgang _and the name stuck."

"And then a hardy group repeated it the following year," An said, smiling. "And then again last year—and now everyone considers it tradition. The group that went last year was the largest yet."

"What do they do?" Nÿr asked.

"It's just a visiting of kin—as you can imagine, some married and remained there, and there's a fair number of hill folk who stayed here." She looked at her husband. "We talked about going last year, but it was still too unsafe."

"But we have that ratified treaty now," Fili said. "Maybe this is the year we go along. It would show my trust in the political process and the road will be well guarded. Once we get there, we can look for Dwalin's daughter."

Kili was frowning. "I wouldn't call that a foolproof plan," he said. "But since no one expects you to be going, at least it has surprise on its side."

An looked ready for the challenge. "And everyone knows I am overdue in visiting my parents," she said. "It's an easy, public excuse for us to go. Do you know they've never met Iri? We can take her along…the younger lads, too."

Nÿr looked at Kili. He did not appear happy, his somber eyes on his brother. "Send An to represent the House of Durin. She is the Queen of Erebor."

Fili was shaking his head. "Thorin Stonehelm has dug his heels in on every matter with us since he became King. He is not going to allow even one orphaned lassie to go without an argument and concessions, Kili. And we don't have the upper hand. We are many times in the Iron Hills' debt. If I go and take a pile of gold along, he might be willing to talk."

"We'll be travelling quite comfortably in wagons. Could we not take Dwalin with us?" Lady An asked. "Find a way to reunite father and daughter there?"

"In his condition, he would not survive a five day journey," Nÿr was shaking her head. "Not even tucked in a travel bed. The pain would be cruel."

She looked at Kili again. His hard-eyed glare said he was against the whole idea of his brother leaving.

"I need to get out and be seen by the people," Fili said to him. "If they are going to trust the peace of Gondor, I can't stay locked inside the mountain."

"No," Kili said, and Nÿr could hear bitterness in his words. "That's my job, isn't it?" With a set jaw, he turned and left the room.

Nÿr almost followed, but felt the King's hand on her arm.

"Let him go," Fili said. "He'll walk off his temper and be done with it."

"Are you certain he has to stay…?" she began.

But the King fixed her with a steely eye. "Kili does not leave the lands of Erebor," Fili said, his voice firm. "Ever."

Nÿr understood and nodded her acquiescence, but it still made her heart sink. Her beloved: Prince, warrior, commander…and curse bearer. The morgul poison that had once nearly killed him remained in his blood, revisited him every year, and away from the protection of the Mountain, the curse would draw wraiths that would overtake him, as sure as he could call a raven.

Even now. Even with the dark lord gone.

"He has to stay in any case," An said to her. "With Fjalar. The law of succession prevents the King and his heir from leaving at the same time."

Nÿr understood this as well. Fjalar was too young to be crowned if anything happened to the King. Kili would be regent until Fili's son reached the age of 82. Sick as he was, Dwalin wouldn't be allowed to stand in this time.

"Kili will have to take the administrative duties. Preside over the court, maintain the council schedule," Fili stated. "And Fjalar enters cadet training in two days, just like we planned."

"When does the _Hurmelgang_ leave?" Nÿr asked.

"Three days from now," An replied.

"And until then, keep it secret that we mean to go along," Fili said. He looked at his wife. "And we have a lot of work to do to get ready."

* * *

Nÿr didn't see her intended again until well after sunset. She had tended old Dwalin, seen him settled into the room they'd set up as his own, and handed his care over to a trainee for the night.

She found Kili standing outside on the Ledge in the cold moonlight. She walked out to him, standing close and silently coaxing his stubbornly folded arms apart so she could hold his hand.

She didn't often notice the signs of aging on her beloved's face, but she noticed them now, in the moonlight.

Graying hair, worry lines on his forehead, and a weariness in his eyes.

She didn't have a cure for the first two, but she just might be able to do something about the last one.

"Come inside?" she murmured.

He looked at her, his expression still hard as stone. She knew he wasn't angry with her. He was just unhappy with the situation.

So she took a chance and stepped closer, sliding her hand from his chest to his ear. "I can make it worth your while," she whispered.

There. A slight quirk of an eyebrow.

She kissed his jaw in a slow, lingering caress.

His eyes closed and she felt a slight lessening of the tension in his shoulders. He rubbed her arm.

It was enough. She led him by the hand and he followed. Back inside, she closed their bedroom door and shut out the rest of the world.

And devoted the rest of her energy to him and him alone.


	4. Chapter 4

****Hope you're enjoying the story. Don't be shy-even a quick note or PM helps me understand if I'm hitting the right notes or not. Appreciate everyone who's followed and liked... Huge thanks!****

Four

Kili knew that everything else aside, Fjalar was ready to leave the nest based on the way he'd been butting heads with his mother the past few weeks.

There was a point when young lads just needed to be corralled and challenged by older and wiser males.

He did sympathize, but Lady An was upset and not helping matters.

"Say goodbye to your mother." He leveled a stern glare at the lad.

Fjalar looked defiant for a moment, as if he would refuse. But he took a second look at his uncle and bit back his words.

He set his carry bag down and walked to his mother. Lady An couldn't help pulling the lad into a tight hug, sniffing back tears.

"I'm just going to the cadet dorm," Fjalar muttered. "I won't even be that far away."

She nodded and smiled through her tears. "Work hard," she said. "And know we love you."

Fjalar nodded and after a moment, lightly touched foreheads with her.

Kili felt it was the best moment they were going to get for leaving on a good note.

"Come on," he said. "Cadets don't keep Commanders waiting." He held the door open, ignoring An's tears as the lad picked up his bag and followed.

In the outer hall, Kili stopped. Fjalar took two steps forward, realized it, and stepped back, looking at his uncle in confusion.

"When we step through that door, I stop being your uncle and start being your commanding officer," he put an arm around the lad. "Until we're off duty. Which for you," he smiled. "Won't be for six weeks. No pleas for leniency. Understand? I have to expect you to do everything the other cadet trainees do."

"I know. Dad told me that, too."

"Good." Kili let him go and ruffled his hair, probably for the last time. "You get one concession: if there's anything truly serious that you need me to know, you come to my ready room and petition the steward for a meeting. They will have orders to let you in. Can't guarantee that you won't have to wait." Kili shrugged and Fjalar nodded.

"I expect you not to abuse the privilege. You're a prince and the King's heir, Fjalar, but while you're in training, that rank means nothing. The lads you meet today could be your brothers-in-arms for many years. You need to make friends with them. All of them. You can't afford to let them see you play favorites or allow a scapegoat. Even your best friends will turn on you if you pick on the weak."

Fjalar frowned, his brows drew together as if he'd not thought of that.

"True warriors sacrifice for each other. The one everyone thinks is weak today will take an arrow for you tomorrow. Treat them all with utter respect now if you ever want them to follow you when you're King. If I see you doing any differently, know that I will kick your backside hard, and I'll do it right in front of them."

Fjalar stared, his eyes wide. He nodded.

Kili raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir," he said.

"Good lad. Let's go."

Kili opened the door but did not hold it for the youngster as he might have done in the past. This time he strode through as a Prince and Commander, letting the cadet candidate scurry to catch up.

He walked his usual pace, but it was faster than he would have gone with a child. But Fjalar was officially not a child anymore.

Once they reached Erebor's central hub, they took several flights downstairs, crossed on one of the open air bridges, and then climbed to the training complex. Kili took the stairs at a jog, counting off the two hundred and fifty steps without a break.

The lad had stumbled once and was winded at the top.

Kili smiled. "In six weeks you'll be able to that ten times, no problem." He took Fjalar into the complex through a side entrance. No use getting in the middle of the other candidates and their parents—Kili didn't think he could do any more tearful mothers this morning.

"Skirfir?" he called.

Skirf had been waiting. "Yes, sir!"

"Cadet candidate Fjalar is ready for duty," he said. "Cadet Fjalar? Lieutenant Skirfir. You will obey his commands to the letter. I will see you both at training this afternoon."

And with that, he turned and walked away.

But once inside his ready room he stopped and sighed. He knew his brother had avoided this morning because he was genuinely unsettled at the loss of his little child. Truth be told, Kili was feeling a bit of that loss as well. He looked back toward the cadet hall and sighed more deeply this time.

He'd hand selected every trainer, officer, and lad in that class. Part of him wondered if Fjalar would be scared and lonely away from his family, especially his father.

But the other part of him knew his nephew well enough to know he would thrive. Kili picked up the stack of fresh letters and reports on his desk and smiled. He decided he was going to enjoy this time-watching the lad become a young warrior, and wondered what his own uncle had thought on that day many years ago when he'd walked two young lads from their mother's home to the cadet quarters. Kili had been several years younger than Fjalar was now, and petrified at the transformation of beloved uncle into scary commander.

He sincerely hoped he wasn't quite as frightening as Thorin Oakenshield in exile.

* * *

Fjalar knew Skirfir already, of course. But he was treading carefully. He followed his friend (now his Lieutenant) into the cadet dorm. He wanted to do well, wanted to finally have the chance to show everyone that he was not a kid anymore. But everything here was new to him and his uncle's words were spinning in his head.

"This is your bunk," Skirfir stopped at a two-level bed. "And my quarters are there." He pointed to a private room with an open door not ten feet away. "You have about ten minutes to pick your bed and stow your gear. I will call _Cadets Ready_, and you will line up with the others over there," he pointed to an open area on the other side of the dorm.

Then he winked and smacked Fjalar on the arm. "Welcome to the training ground, Cadet."

"Thank you, sir." Fjalar felt embarrassed, but he smiled back at his Lieutenant. They'd met on a battlefield, one he should have never seen, when the young archer had stood between him and a goblin. Fjalar had been horrified to see the lad knocked sideways and thrown ten feet, right in front of him.

And he would never forget carrying him two hours in the snow back to the western outpost.

His uncle was right. A true warrior sacrificed for his brother-in-arms. He opened the locker next to the bed and dumped his carry bag inside, then looked back at his friend, off to guide another pair of trainees to their assigned bunks.

Fjalar already knew he would do anything for his Lieutenant.

"Top or bottom?" a voice behind him said.

Fjalar turned to see a beefy ginger-haired lad grinning at him.

He smiled back. The lad's face went blank a moment, then he stood a bit taller.

"Mieth, at your service," he bowed.

Fjalar returned the bow. "Fjalar, at yours and your family's. And I'll take the top," he said, not certain Mieth could even get up there.

"Good. I don't like to climb," Mieth shrugged. "Axe or sword?" he asked, a gleam in his eye.

Fjalar stood back and let Mieth get to the second locker. "Sword. Definitely."

Mieth grinned. "Then I'll have a good time cutting your legs out from under you with my axe."

* * *

Fili looked up from finishing the last paragraph of a policy statement to see the office steward showing in his brother's intended, Nÿr.

His morning was not going to be over, he reflected, if the long string of people needing a moment of his time didn't come to an end. Because, of course, a moment ended up being half an hour if he was lucky, and two hours if he was not.

"Nÿr," he said. "Pleasant surprise." At least he didn't have to force a smile. He quite liked the young healer lass.

"I apologize for showing up in your antechamber."

"I take it this is official?"

She looked uncomfortable. "Well, at least…" she struggled for words. "Yes. Since I'm staying here while you're away and part of my duties are to watch over your brother…"

Fili nodded.

"I need to know one thing very clearly, and I feel like I need to hear it from you."

"Shoot."

"I have heard you say several times that Kili can not leave the lands of Erebor."

Fili finished the sentence he'd been writing and put his pen down. _Stop doing three things at once_, he chided himself.

"That's right," he said. "He can't. He's only protected from that curse in his blood if he stays here." He looked at his hands. "Look, I know he hates it." He met her eyes now. "For most of us, Erebor is a palace. But for Kili…" he looked away. "It's really just a big prison."

He looked back at Nÿr. The lass was fidgeting.

"What I want to know is, or what I need to know," she said, her nerves apparent. She finally looked up and met his eyes. "Where exactly do the boundaries lie? I know he goes to Dale, and he's been out on the western slope. If he decides to ride to someone's rescue…how far can he really go? Where's the point of no return?"

Fili took a deep breath. This.

"You're right," he said. "You need to know that. Thanks for asking it." He stood, walked past the bookcases of legal tomes and led her to a range of map cases.

"Drawer number twenty-seven…" He found it, slid it open and drew out an oversized, detailed map that included Erebor. He wafted it over to the council table, setting several weights on the corner at his end. Nÿr did the same on the other.

"This is a map of the mountain showing the Stonesmith's charting of the rock. This is the key. What protects Kili is the great mass of spell-infused stone that is Erebor." He pointed to the mountain's core. "We see the rock in plain sight on the peak and on the ridgetops that radiate out, including the rock underneath Dale." He pointed to the grey colored areas on the map.

"But the stone actually runs underneath the soil for a wide area around the mountain." He pointed now to lighter shaded lands. "The stone extends beneath the long lake in the south, but not all the way to Esgaroth. It runs under the entire downslope into the greenwood on the west, and about a third of the way toward the Iron Hills in the east. Not very far north, however. Just to the base of these foothills, here."

Nÿr studied the map. "So, there is no concern for him as long as he remains in areas with this underlayment."

"That's correct. He's been out to the edges many times," Fili said. "We even tested going past once."

"What happened?"

"A dwimmerlaik. A wraith demon…almost immediately."

"How'd he survive?"

"I was there. Used firebrands until we made it back to soil with Erebor stone beneath. Lucky for us, we hadn't gone that far. I'm not sure how long a firebrand would have held off the demon, and I was petrified the entire time than more would show up. Mahal. We both had nightmares for a month after that."

Nÿr swallowed. "How do I keep him from crossing the line? He gets very headstrong…"

Fili raised his eyebrows. "Believe me, I know. Luckily, he has a very healthy fear of the wraiths. Just invoke the fate of Thrain if you really want to shake him up and get his attention."

"What did happen to Thrain?"

Fili sighed. "Gandalf the Grey visited us about ten years after we first came to Erebor. Did you ever meet Gandalf?"

Nÿr shook her head. "I've only heard the tales…"

Fili nodded. "Well, he was here for the better part of winter one year. Balin and I had long talks with him about Kili's curse and Thrain, and about the Mountain. Gandalf told us things then that I'd never heard before. That Thrain went adventuring on his own bearing one of the seven rings of the dwarf lords. Sauron reeled him in, took his ring, poisoned him with a morgul blade…at some point the wraiths took him and he became one of them."

"Because of the ring?"

"Gandalf believed that Thrain's ring drew Sauron to him in the first place, but once taken, it was really the morgul poison that trapped him." Fili shrugged. "Though he might have escaped had he not been bent on getting his ring back." He frowned. "It's speculative, really. Thorin always wanted it to make sense, wanted to pin down a cause that he could go rip apart in battle."

Fili sighed and looked away. "I am not as much like Thorin as I am like my mother." He looked at Nÿr. "I am far more interested in keeping my family and my people safe."

"And Kili is safe as long as he's home."

"The wraiths can not cross the threshold of Erebor stone. Its like the Circle of _Ahyrunu."_

"The…circle?"

"You haven't seen it?" Fili stood and stared at her. How had he missed that she would have the ability to invoke the circle? "Oh, Daughter of Durin. You need to see this. Let's go take a look."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Fili grabbed his jacket and led Nÿr to the King's Hall. It was not the day of the week normally set aside for royal audiences, so the cavernous room was empty of spectators and petitioners. There were, however, clerks and chamberlains at work.

Fili bowed his head with hand on heart to the Master Clerk, a richly dressed dwarf with a chain of office on his chest. "Clear the Hall for me, please? Lock the doors behind you."

The clerk simply bowed and turned to the other staff on hand, gesturing calmly.

Fili took Nÿr to other end of the long hall. "It was really Gandalf's wisdom that guided me in my first acts as King," Fili said as they went. "We laid Thorin to rest after the Battle of Five Armies, and Gandalf took me aside with Balin. The first thing he told me was to lock the gold and the Arkenstone away from anyone with a drop of Durin's blood. We did that. It's in secret vaults around the mountain, and even I don't know where they are. Bofur's the keeper of the vault knowledge. You should know that, in case anything happens."

"Why vaults?" Nÿr asked.

"Gold-sickness. You've heard about that, I'm sure."

"I thought it was just Thorin."

"No. Unfortunately it includes anyone with Durin's blood. Me, Kili, you, my children…and your children, when you have them. It's like an obsession…just being around it in any real quantity will take over your mind. Thror apparently couldn't keep himself from standing in his hoard for hours and just communing with it."

"Like men who become addicted to ale and keep needing it," Nÿr said.

"Exactly," Fili nodded. "Ever notice that Kili gives you things made of silver or mithril? Never gold?"

Nÿr blinked. "Now that you mention it…"

"He also won't come near the mithril spells."

"Why?"

"He has a fear that if the wraiths ever took him, the other side would learn to use the mountain's power against us through him. I've argued for years that Thrain certainly knew the mithril spells…and as far as we know the dark lord never tried to invoke them. But Kili says the dragon sitting here was the deterrent in the beginning, and then Sauron had bigger things on his mind after that." Fili shrugged. "In any case, Kili refuses to have anything to do with the mithril spells, so if I were you, I wouldn't ask him to. Gandalf always advised me to trust Kili's instinct. So," he looked at Nÿr. "You won't find him sympathetic to any of this. But with me gone and Dwalin ill, someone needs to know how to use this if it's needed, and I'd rather not show it to Fjalar for a few more years. So keep it secret for me, please."

Nÿr nodded her agreement.

They heard an _all clear_ call from the Master Clerk and turned to see him raise a hand in farewell as he closed the side doors behind him.

"Well, let's get on it with it." Fili pointed to a tall cabinet door with a mithril handle. "Let's see how you do. Go ahead and open that."

Nÿr did.

"Very good. The first mithril spell is that knob. If you didn't have the blood of Durin in your veins, it wouldn't open for you."

He saw Nÿr staring at the one thing inside the cabinet: a simple, long silvery staff.

Fili reached past her and lifted it out.

"It was Balin who studied the embedded spells of Erebor and located the staff," Fili held it horizontal, showing her. "It's pure mithril. He had Gandalf looking at the spells, trying to understand how they work. All Gandalf ever said was that Erebor's enchantments were a far older and more earth-bound magic than the stuff he knew. He couldn't make the mithril staff operate himself, but he did help us learn to channel the strength of the mountain."

"The staff warms through contact with your hands," he went on. He lifted the staff to the lamplight. "See the faint shimmer? It only does that when in contact with your skin."

He held it out to Nÿr.

She stepped back, obviously cautious of it.

"You can speak to ravens," he said quietly. "Your bloodline is already proven."

Gingerly, she held up her hands as if worried she would break it. He handed over the staff.

A slightly different but definite shimmer raced along the length at her touch.

She looked at him, eyes wide.

He smiled, trying to reassure her, and led her into the center of the hall. He pointed to a design in the floor: a curious circular pattern in the marble, a swirl of mithril dotted with ancient symbols.

"Here's the first mountain spell that I learned—the Circle of _Ahyrunu_."

"_Ahyrunu_?" Nÿr asked. "Dishonesty?"

"Very good," Fili said. "Activate the circle, and anyone inside it is compelled to truth." He shrugged. "Handy spell for a King."

He gently took the staff back from her.

"Shimmery staff touches mithril pattern in the floor…" He lowered one end of the staff to touch the mithril and it sparked, sending light across the entire pattern.

Nÿr gasped.

Fili winked at her. "Here's a secret: it doesn't take a big dramatic motion, but I must admit I feel a bit like Gandalf when people are watching." He grinned. "So nothing wrong with a little theatrical staff wielding." He lifted the staff away from the floor, then pulled a warrior face and shouted in Khuzdul, stabbing the staff at the silver line. Again, the mithril sparked and the pattern lit up.

Nÿr giggled.

"Same effect." He laughed with her. "But a hundred times more dramatic."

He grinned, letting her watch the subtle light for a moment, then went on.

"As long as the staff is in your hand and touching the mithril pattern," he said, "This circle creates a barrier that no one can see or cross. Try to reach across the line there."

She stepped forward and reached out—her hand came up against something that felt solid, even though her eyes saw nothing there. "Oh!"

Fili lifted the staff from mithril line and the light pattern faded. "That same thing happens to the wraiths if they try to pass into our land. They cannot cross the threshold of Erebor stone."

Nÿr drew in her breath, understanding now. "And Kili has that protection as long as he stays within the confines of the threshold."

"Yes. To be honest, it's a vast amount of square leagues we're talking about. He can ride a full four days west and about two east. He can visit Dale, but not Esgaroth. He circuits the outposts whenever he wants. Not to mention that you could walk around in here for days and never tread the same hall twice."

Nÿr nodded.

"It's the idea of never leaving that gets to him," Fili said. "And I am sorry about that. But it's the price we paid for his life. Otherwise he'd be down there in the lower levels with my Uncle." They looked at each other, then away.

Fili sighed. Together they returned the staff to its cabinet. "When I get back from the Iron Hills, I'll schedule some training time with you and this staff." Fili closed the door on its cupboard. "But I'll make sure I tell Dwalin about this when I go say goodbye to him. If he feels up to it, I don't know why the two of you shouldn't work with this as much as you want."

"Is this the only circle in the mountain?" Nÿr asked, a curious intensity on her young face. "Are there others?"

"Yes. About a dozen that I know of. Maybe more. They all do different things," Fili said. "At one time, Balin had an old scroll that detailed them. Ask Dwalin if he still has it-though I'll warn you, it's written in ancient dwarvish. Takes hours to translate."

She nodded, her expression thoughtful.

Fili blinked, wondering whether he'd just overwhelmed her with too much detail.

But she smiled. "Thank you, my lord. This has been most instructive."

Fili looked at her, his brother's intended, and marveled that Kili was so lucky for once in his life. He reached out and drew her into a warm embrace. "Take care of my brother for me," he said. "You've been good for Kili," he told her. "And I'm afraid he won't forgive me very quickly for leaving him behind tomorrow."


	6. Chapter 6

****Khuzdul translated in the footnotes at the end... Huge thanks for the likes, favorites, follows, and comments! As always, drop a note if you can, even if you're coming late to the story.****

Chapter Six

Fjalar, firstborn son and heir to King Fili of Erebor, stood with twenty-nine other lads in what had to be the deepest part of the lower levels that he'd ever seen. Dark, silent. Utterly deserted. Lit only by the light of their little hand lanterns. They were gathered in front of a wide stairway that led up.

"Why are we down here?" Mieth asked him in a low voice.

"No idea," Fjalar answered.

Several of the other lads exchanged worried looks with them. By now, the trainees knew the sunny-haired member of the class was their Prince, but they also knew enough to keep his status incognito.

Then their lieutenant was at attention, exchanging words with someone who had just joined them, someone who answered in a deeper, confident voice.

Lads stretched to see who it was.

But Fjalar recognized the voice. "That's my…" he stopped himself. "The Commander." He said quietly.

"Prince Kili," someone else murmured, awe in his voice.

"All right lads," his Uncle stepped up in front of the stairway, taller than everyone in the group. "This is the first challenge to becoming a soldier of Erebor. It's called Climbing the Mountain, and it's your ticket to weapons training as well as to the ale barrels. When you can Climb the Mountain in less than three hours, you can have all the ale you want with your dinner," he grinned.

There were raised eyebrows and a few nervous laughs. Generally, they were not old enough to have been allowed ale at their family tables.

"When you've climbed it ten times, you're ready to train for combat."

This time they were silent and serious. That was the real prize. They all wanted their chance to try swords and axes.

"The first thing a dwarf warrior needs," The commander went on. "Is stamina. We can fight longer and harder than men or goblins…which means we can outlast an enemy on the battlefield. We aren't as swift as elves, maybe, but we can run steady for days and cover a lot of ground. You will need that stamina in the next weeks, and here's where we start honing it." He held out a hand to the stairway that led up.

"This stairway," Lieutenant Skirfir said stepping up beside the Commander, "Leads from this level to the northern lookout. It's about two leagues, straight up. You have three hours this afternoon to get to the top." He pointed to the stairway. "If you care to count as you go, it's about 10,000 steps. If you want to pace yourself, that's about 3,300 steps an hour."

The Commander looked up the stairway. "I will lead, Skirf will follow at the back." He looked at them, and Fjalar met his uncle's assessing eyes for just a moment as he scanned the lads. "I expect all thirty of you to get yourselves to the top without our help."

Lieutenant Skirfir was nodding. "This means you have to help each other. If five of you get to the top and the rest are left behind, that's a failure. Think of yourselves as a fighting unit and there's a battle to be won at the top. You need all of your fighters there before you can defend your ground.

"There are a few places along the way where you will need to take a corridor to a new staircase. There will be guards posted to show you the way."

Skirfir looked back at Kili.

"Everyone has a water skin?" The commander asked. "Hands up…" He was looking over their light gear now.

Fjalar checked his and raised his hand.

"Good lads. You—where's yours?" One of the smaller lads, Fjalar thought his name was Truin, looked scared stiff, then patted his water skin and rather timidly raised his hand. Fjalar thought the lad gulped. He suppressed a laugh. If only he'd ever seen Uncle Kili in a tickle fight with Iri…

But Lieutenant Skirfir was talking now. "And just so you know, there's a class of lassies who started training last week. They've climbed this route six times now. They went up an hour ago…doubt we'll see them on the stairs, but they'll certainly be at the top," he smiled, "Just waiting for us."

Fjalar and Mieth looked at each other. _Lassies?_ Fjalar couldn't see his mother doing this.

But he could see Nÿr beating him to the top and then wrestling a goblin. He made a _don't underestimate them_ face at Mieth.

"Any questions?" The Commander asked. No one spoke. Fjalar saw his uncle nod at Skirfir. "Just a few moments and we should hear the first bell after mid-day. That's our starting time. And I'll see you at the top by the fourth bell."

Skirfir raised his arm for them to line up. "It's wide enough for two at a time. Let the lads ahead of you get to the top of the first flight before you go, and remember: don't leave anyone behind…"

Fjalar saw his uncle turn, his face pensive, waiting for the bell.

A few moments later they heard it, ringing from the main cavern.

Kili raised a fist and shouted "_Du bekar_!"

Every lad in the place looked up, hearts leaping at the call. Skirfir answered it, looked at them to join in, and they did. Fjalar felt it energizing them.

And then their commander charged up the stairs. Two of the larger lads were next, eager to follow. Fjalar saw them waiting to see Kili reach the top of the flight, then they leapt forward, right behind.

Fjalar and Mieth were the sixth pair to start up. Fjalar found himself silently counting off steps. By 200, he wondered how they were going to manage it. By 1200, Mieth stumbled. Fjalar reached out and caught the heavier lad's arm, pulling him along until he got back in step.

"They're joking, right? I hate climbing."

"Piece of cake, Mieth," Fjalar said, though he knew he was speaking more from hope than truth.

"I can't do 10,000 stairs…" Mieth was shaking his head and slowing. "There's no way."

"Stop thinking about 10,000. Think about doing the 1200 we just did, about nine more times."

The two lads behind them were gaining.

"_Ubzûnat_!" one yelled at them. "We're goblins and we'll have your hides!"

Fjalar's memory flashed on the battlefield on the western slope. "Mahal's hell you will!" he called back. "Come on, Mieth! Nine more times."

But Mieth was stumbling regularly by the end of the hour when they'd done the first 3500 steps.

By mutual agreement, they stopped a moment on a landing for swallows of water and a chance to catch their breath. Their thigh muscles were screaming.

And even Fjalar was wondering how he was going to make it all the way to the top.

* * *

Fili entered the Annex's great room to find Dwalin dozing in a large chair in front of the windows, his feet up and a blanket tucked around him.

He slowed, wondering if he should wake the old dwarf. He didn't like seeing Dwalin looking so frail. In his mind, Dwalin had always been bigger, stronger, and tougher than anyone else, an even match for Thorin.

And that was saying something.

Dwalin's eyes opened.

"That's a quite sober look for a young King," he said.

Fili smiled. "Lots on my mind."

Dwalin grunted and nodded. "I bet." He shifted in his chair, and Fili thought he looked uncomfortable, as if the mass in his gut was more painful than he let on.

But Dwalin settled and pinned Fili with a sharp eye. "Are you really sure you should be leaving the Mountain, lad?"

Fili sighed. "If I believe in the peace of Gondor, I have to show it. Besides, a little family trip…should be fun." He smiled.

Dwalin snorted.

"If she's anywhere in the Iron Hills, I'll find her, Dwalin."

Their eyes met. Dwalin blinked, and Fili thought he might be a bit teary. The old warrior reached out and grasped Fili's hand, his grip not as strong as in the past, but still firm.

"Aye. I trained you to track myself. Always proud of how good you are." Fili saw a rare hint of approval on his face.

"If you can't find her, laddie, no one can. On the table there," he nodded to show Fili. "All the letters I have from the Hill people. In case you need them."

Fili picked up the packet, weighing it in his hand. "Thank you. These will help," he said. He slid them into his inside pocket.

Dwalin looked away. "I just hope Dain's whelp will let her go."

"She belongs with you, Dwalin. With us. I've a few concessions to hand him. I hope he understands."

Dwalin looked up again. There was an amount of faith in his expression that Fili found humbling. He hoped he could live up to it.

They talked of other things, then. Of using the trip to teach Fili's middle son Gunnar, or Gunz as he was nicknamed, to ride. Start him on knife skills, then some hunting.

"Nÿr told me," Fili said, "That in the heat of that skirmish, Fjalar had no idea how to kill a goblin. She had to wrestle a goblin and motion for him to slice the inner thigh…" he shook his head. "That's my fault. If things had been safer, we'd have had Fjalar out hunting for a couple years now. He would know how to make a killing cut."

Dwalin nodded. "Hunting is the best training for young warriors. But learning from the lassie—from a healer—not a bad choice, either. Healers know exactly where an untrained lad could strike and make it count."

Fili nodded. "They went for the femoral artery."

"Good choice."

"I'm just surprised Fjalar knew the word _femoral_."

Dwalin laughed at that. "Thank Mahal for the lad's book learning…"

"There's some teaching you might be able to do while I'm gone," Fili said, changing the subject.

Dwalin's tired eyes seemed to brighten a little.

"Show the lassie what you know about mithril spells. We went down to the circle this morning and she held the staff. She's got the knack for it."

"Ah. That she would…" his expression turned thoughtful. "She's a right smart lass, Nÿr is." Then his eye got a glint. "Quite a looker, too. I swear if I was a hundred years younger I'd give that brother of yours a run for his money, there."

"Ah, cousin," Fili said. "That's why the lassies get the Choosing. We lads would muck it up."

Dwalin smiled. "Aye. We would at that."

Fili grinned. Dwarf lads were famously jealous when it came to the lasses…and the lasses famously rolled their eyes at it. "Provided you can keep your hands to yourself," he teased, "Do some work with her while I'm gone. When I get back with young Beka, I have a feeling your time will be completely taken," Fili said, winking at his old teacher.

Then he leaned down to touch foreheads, one hand firmly on his old friend's shoulder. "Stay strong, Dwalin. Two or three weeks and we'll be back."

Dwalin nodded, unable to speak.

"I swear I'll find her for you."

_"Mahzirikhi zu gang ghukhil, _my King," Dwalin murmured, a hand on Fili's arm.

_"Mukhuh Mahal bakhuz murukhzu,_ cousin."

* * *

Kili made it to the last set of stairs just after the third bell. He was slipping. Once he could do the climb and reach the top at half past two.

In any case, he had at least most of a bell to rest before the trainees caught up to him.

He bent over, hands on his knees, catching his breath. Up above, the lassies' trainers had them ready for battle and they were getting a chance to rest and arm themselves.

It was just snowballs, but it was going to surprise the heck out of his lads. Would be fun, he grinned. He wondered who would rally them, how fast they'd team up, and whether they'd have the strength to win.

It was awhile before the first lads trudged up the last stairs to his holding position. He made a point of slapping palms with each of them, giving them a word of encouragement. He was glad to see Fjalar and his burly partner make it up together, still sixth in order. He smacked Fjalar's hand and spared the lad a quick grin. The burly lad next to him looked done in.

"Chin up, lad," he said. "Don't underestimate yourself. You big guys have a little more challenge on the way up, but you're hell on two legs going downhill."

The burly lad looked surprised to hear a word of encouragement.

Kili was expecting the fourth bell any moment when he finally saw Skirfir bringing up the rear.

"Everybody here?"

They looked around. Someone actually did a head count and came up with thirty.

Skirfir gave him a thumbs up.

"Since we're all a little ahead of the bell, let's go surprise the heck out of the lassies. Get a good roar going," he coached. "And out you go!"

He stepped back and let the lads lead the way.

They did indeed surprise the crew of trainee lasses, who'd been caught relaxing in the sunshine.

But the first lesson was that coming out of the dark of the mountain into sunlight meant they were all temporarily blind.

The first volleys of snowballs hit them before they knew it was a fight.

Kili grinned, waiting for the lads to organize themselves.

"Line up! Arm yourselves!" It was the Prince who urged them into action, being the only one who'd ever seen how fast a battle could erupt into chaos.

And the others stepped up, bending to scoop snow and fire back.

They actually routed a group of lassies from a ledge, gaining their stockpile of snowballs.

But four lads ended up mired when a small trap was triggered and a few feet of snow dropped on their heads, burying them up to their hips.

One of the taller lads organized a rescue crew, digging the extra snow away while the mired ones protected them with fire.

And that's when Fria, the Lassie trainer, plowed into him from the side and knocked Kili to the ground. He came up sputtering, eyes wide open from the icy cold snow down his back.

_Du Bekar!_ He yelled again, neatly flipping her over. He could hear his lads answering back, a bit of fury in their cries.

But Fria had a few tricks up her sleeve. Before he knew it, she had him on his knees, one arm twisted behind his back and a piece of wood at his throat (the best she could do, given that this was an unarmed exercise.)

"Cease fire! Hands up, lads, or the commander gets it."

Kili raised his eyebrows, watching several of the lads comply immediately.

He caught Fjalar's eye, however, and winked.

"Let him go," Fjalar demanded, snowball at the ready. Mahal, the lad sounded like Thorin. "Or pay the price."

Fria laughed, starting a move that might have cut her captive's throat.

Except her captive kicked her legs out from under her. Kili had her face down on the ground with his knee in her back seconds later, his greater weight and size holding her there.

The lads went at it with renewed energy, gaining ground and demanding a surrender from the lassies.

The lassies weren't having it.

The lads kept firing snowballs, refusing to give up.

Kili relented and handed Fria to her feet, and together they stood aside and laughed at the course of the battle as it devolved into sloppy sprays of flung snow. One older lad had a ginger-haired lass in a position that might get out of hand if they didn't break it up.

Kili grabbed the trainee by his collar. "Leave off, lad," he pulled him up. To his credit the lad looked sheepish and surprised, as if quite shocked to discover he'd been grappling in quite _that way_ with a lass.

Fria had the lass ten feet away, but Kili saw her curious look over her shoulder, and maybe she was more than a little interested in giving that move another shot sometime.

His lad looked flummoxed.

"I think that's a draw, Commander!" he called to her. "Lads! Time to stand down!"

The fighting ceased. Skirfir had his trainees lining up, all pink cheeks and heavy limbs. Kili patted the back of his errant lad. "You'll see her another time, I'm sure." He nudged him off to join his classmates.

"Lieutenant Skirfir?" he called.

"Yes, sir?"

"Get these lads down for dinner and some ale!"

A general cheer went up, and Skirfir had them on the move. Kili smiled, proud of them, though he had no worries about the ale. The lads were so knackered that they wouldn't get past half a pint.

Kili watched them go, then walked over to Fria and her trainees. He bowed, one hand over his heart. "Good work, lassies! They sure weren't expecting that. You gave them a good fight. Mahal's blessing on you."

Fria returned the bow. "Thank you, my Prince. Glad to be of service. Our blessing in return."

He smiled at the trainee lasses and waved, following his lads to their dinner.

* * *

It was much later in the evening when Fili returned to the Annex. Dwalin was in his room for the night, but Nÿr was still up, several rolls of bandages and packets of herbs lined up on a table. She was packing a small medic's kit.

She looked up at his footsteps and smiled. "Your timing's perfect," she said to him. "This is about ready for Lady An. Just a few things for all the scraped knees and knocked heads I'm sure she'll be seeing while you're travelling."

He smiled. "Good thinking. She'll need it." He looked around the otherwise empty great room. "Kili's still out?"

Nÿr nodded. "I'm sorry that he's avoiding you."

"Not your fault. He gets like this. He'll work it out with himself." He sighed. "Or not. I still love him. He knows it." Fili changed the subject. "Dwalin looks a little better."

"We're dosing him with milkvetch, and we're making sure he's getting the right food and enough water. The seniors get careless about what they eat. They're as bad as the little ones, only going for sweets."

Fili nodded, but didn't reply.

"My lord?"

"There's one more thing I need to tell you before I go tomorrow," He said.

Nÿr packed the last roll of bandages into the little pouch and closed the flap, handing him the kit.

"It's something Fjalar overheard when he was caught by that slaghead and those smuggler men a few months back," Fili tucked the pouch into the crook of this arm.

Nÿr looked at him, concerned now. Fili's eyes were still, his voice low.

"Fjalar didn't understand it, but I did. Tell me what you think. He says they were talking about killing Sons of Durin, including Kili. They said:_ Orcs swear the poison already burns in that one's blood…add a little something the hidden ones are cooking up and he'll be finished._"

Nÿr felt the blood leave her face. "Orcs know about the morgul curse?"

"Of course. They're the ones who used it—Azog's orcs. Out of Moria by way of Dol Guldur."

"_Add something the hidden ones are cooking up and he'll be finished_…" Nÿr bit her lip. Part of her wanted to deny the knowledge, collapse in fear. But the other, stronger healer part of her held her emotions at bay and her spine straight. "There's so little in the healer tomes about morgul wounds," she said, shaking her head. "This makes it sound like they have a second poison…there are such things that are deadly when mixed. Dwalin's milkvetch, for one. By itself it's good. But if a patient is also given bellflower for swelling joints, the combination is deadly."

"That was my thinking. And _hidden ones_ is, as far as I can tell, a reference to Dol Guldur goblins hiding back in Khazad-Dum. We know they're there. We'll need to do something about them one of these days."

"Any idea what they used to make that poison in the first place?" Nÿr felt like her mind was racing now. "I know it's a spell, but if there's an herb or a mineral involved, counter-acting that might at least keep a second poison from having an effect."

Fili nodded. "I penned a letter to Rivendell after Durin's Day asking for advice. I sent it with the courier to Minas Tirith, hoping they'd send it on. That was before this new information, though." He shook his head.

"When I heard what Fjalar said," he continued, "I went back through my journal notes from the time when Elrond taught me the kingsfoil spell." He pulled a sheaf of parchment from inside his jacket. "I'll leave them with you. There's a note someplace about spider poison, I think."

Nÿr took the notes. "Thank you," she said. "I'll go through this carefully." She forced a deep breath, forced her thoughts to stop whirling. Research, she could do.

"Ask Kili if there's something you can't read." Fili looked apologetic. "My handwriting's a bit sloppy."

She smiled at his boyish admission.

"If a letter comes from Rivendell, the master clerk knows to call you." With that, he gave her a quick one-armed hug. "And thank you for this," he said, patting the healer's kit she'd made. He meant it. "See you at sunrise?"

"Yes, of course."

* * *

****As always, drop me a line of encouragement if so inspired…all feedback welcome, either as a review or a PM.****

Neo-khuzdul words from the Dwarrow Scholar's online Neo-Khuzdul dictionary:

_Ubzûnat! _= Run!

_Du Bekar!_ = To arms! or, to battle!

_Mahzirikhi zu gang ghukhil =_ I wish you a safe journey.

_Mukhuh Mahal bakhuz murukhzu _= May Mahal's hammer shield you.


	7. Chapter 7

****Khuzdul translated in the footnotes at the end... Huge thanks for the likes, favorites, follows, and comments! As always, drop a note if you can.****

Chapter Seven

"Mahal, I'm getting old," Kili groaned. It was late and he was undressing for sleep.

Nÿr giggled. "That's hardly the sound a lady wants to hear from her beloved in the bedchamber."

Kili blushed. "I climbed the mountain with the trainee lads this afternoon." He sat on the edge of the bed and winced, trying to stretch his right calf muscles. "I think part of me has stopped working in protest."

"Ah," Nÿr said, sliding out of bed and going for her ointments. She selected one useful for sore muscles but scented with something far more enticing than purely medicinal herbs.

She came around the bed and knelt before him, rubbing the stuff on her hands to warm it. They had a fire going in the room, and the flickering light was setting a mood that she found...interesting.

He was watching her with a touch of merriment in his eyes, tinged with something just a bit smouldering.

She put her healer's hands on his calf carefully, aware of the old scars just above the knee. She could feel the tightness in his muscles and massaged gently. She coached him through stretching the calf, then made him lean back and stretch the leg.

And when she realized he was looking at her with half lidded eyes, she leaned forward for a gentle kiss.

Only he caught her up with one far more hungry and passionate, going on to prove that most of him was working just fine.

* * *

Kili was gone when Nÿr woke early the next morning. Lady An's maids were calling her.

It was time for the royal couple and their younger children to join the _Hurmelgang. _Fili had decided it was a fine opportunity for an emergency drill out the secret escape exit, and Nÿr had been enlisted to assist.

She quickly dressed in plain clothes, having been fully briefed on the morning's drill. She rushed to the nursery, ready to take little Iri, the King's youngest child, to "safety," or in this case, to the wagon loading area.

"Are we going to get breakfast?" Iri, asked, her voice plaintive as she lifted her head. Nÿr carried her, following Fili and Lady An who each had Gunz and Hannar. They were walking briskly down a secret, narrow corridor from the family quarters to a little used hidden exit east of Ravenhill.

"I think that it will be like a picnic, sweetheart," Nÿr replied. "Only in the morning time."

Iri didn't answer. She rubbed her eyes, then dropped her head against Nÿr's shoulder again. The children were still sleepy, wondering why they were up so early in the morning. They had not been told ahead of time about the impending journey.

At least it was giving the new family guard a workout. And, Nÿr reflected, it kept nosy folk from seeing them leave. It might even keep the royal family's departure quiet for a day or so, if they were lucky, all in keeping with Erebor's new, more covert security protocols.

Kili was the only one not participating in the drill. He'd been up early—telling Nÿr as he dressed that he wanted to be on Ravenhill at first light, sending the early birds to scout the area ahead of the _hurmelgang's_ departure.

Nÿr secretly wondered if he was just avoiding his brother.

"One more set of stairs," Fili called back to them. "And we're there."

Finally, Nÿr saw the open door, the pine trees outside, and the newly formed family guard, dressed more like hunters than soldiers, taking up defensive positions.

And there—a plain traveler's wagon with a string of ponies and an extra cart of ale barrels alongside, looking like a simple merchant family's caravan. At least the barrels gave the _appearance_ of holding ale. Nÿr knew they were part ale and mostly treasure. A little thank you gift for the Iron Hills King, in fact.

"Look at this!" Nÿr said, turning Iri to see. "It's a little rolling house, just for you and your mum and your brothers!"

The child's eyes went round.

Gunz was already on his feet, racing ahead of his father.

Nÿr caught up to Lady An and walked beside her to the wagon. Hannar was predictably sound asleep again. Iri simply clutched Nÿr and looked around wide-eyed, uncertain about the new surroundings.

They stopped at the back door of the little wagon while Fili helped Lady An and Hannar inside.

Nÿr looked up to the parapet on Ravenhill. "Look, Iri," she said. "There's My Kee," she said, using Iri's nickname for _my Uncle Kili_. "Do you want to wave hello?"

Iri looked and held up a hand. Nÿr was not sure he saw them until she saw his answering wave.

"Why is he up there?" Iri asked.

"He's ravenspeaking. Just like at home."

"The birds will land on him?"

Nyr nodded, pointing at one coming in and Kili raising his arm. "See that one?"

"What's it saying?"

"I can't hear it from here. Can you?"

Iri stared as if concentrating. "It's not loud enough," she said, sounding sad.

"Here we go, Iri," Fili was in front of them now, reaching for his little daughter. "Let's get you inside with Mum and the lads."

"Oh, not before a kiss goodbye," Nÿr leaned forward to give Iri's chubby cheek a peck. Iri wrinkled her nose and smiled, then put one hand over her mouth and swung it out to pretend-throw a kiss.

"Oh that one went all the way up to Uncle Kili," her Da said, laughing.

But when they looked back up at the top of Ravenhill, Kili had gone.

Nÿr watched Fili's expression go serious. He didn't quite look disappointed, but she knew he wished he was parting on better terms with his brother.

He lifted Iri into the wagon, and Nÿr engaged in a whole round of goodbye waving with Iri and Gunz.

Fili busied himself with checking the wagon and speaking softly with the guards.

"Da says I can ride with him later," Gunz announced to her.

Nÿr smiled. "Better eat a good breakfast, then. And if you get saddle sore, use that salve I gave your mother," she said.

And then Iri erupted in a shout. "My Kee!" she whooped, launching herself out of the door before her mother could catch her.

But Kili caught her in his strong arms and held her close for a hug. "Have fun, little one," he said to her, kissing her on the nose. "You're going on an adventure!"

"Ah," Fili said, retrieving his daughter and handing her back to An. "It's like trying to line up a string of ravens. You get them all where you want them and one flies off."

An herded her youngsters inside.

As if on queue, a real raven hovered and Kili held up his arm. It eyed its audience, looking startled at the presence of three ravenspeakers at the same time. It quorked, then settled. "Quiet…east road quiet."

Both brothers and Nÿr nodded to it. "No goblins, no orcs, no men," it said, rubbing its beak on Kili's gauntlet. "No goblins, no orcs."

Kili thanked the bird and it leapt away. "They're all reporting that," he said. "I sent some as far as the eastern outpost." He leveled a serious look at his brother and lowered his voice. "Be careful with the ravenspeaking while you're traveling. It's a dead giveaway that you're not a merchant."

Fili nodded. "I'll see if I can get them to land on something other than my arm."

They regarded each other in awkward silence.

Nÿr decided to bend down and check the strap on her boot.

After another silent moment, Kili threw his arms around his brother in a bear hug.

And that was all it took. Fili held him close, and they stood like that a moment.

"Be careful," Kili murmured.

"You too."

"I'll send the ravens ahead of you as much as I can. I'll tell them to land on your cart."

"Take care of Fjalar…"

"Of course. He climbed the mountain yesterday," Kili said, pulling back. "He did well. Rallied the lads in the snowball fight. Drank half a pint of ale, and made it to his own bed before collapsing." He grinned, his expression showed a quiet pride.

Fili smiled. "Good lad. I bet he's sore this morning."

Kili shrugged. "No doubt. I haven't seen them yet, but I'm sure Skirf's routing them out of bed for another climb."

"Tell him I apologize for sneaking out."

"I will. And…I'm sorry," Kili said, looking at his feet. "For being upset."

Fili pulled him close again. "Me too, brother. But it'll be all right. We have to do this. For Dwalin."

They stepped back now and nodded. On impulse, Kili reached both hands to cup his brother's face, pulling him close to kiss his forehead.

"_Sankundim, nadad_."

Fili raised his hands and returned the gesture, kissing Kili's forehead in a gentler, more lingering kiss.

_"Ukrâd, nadadith," _he whispered. "Be well, be safe," he said, looking Kili in the eyes. "I'll be back before you know it."

And then he turned away. Fili walked to a brown pony, swinging himself into the saddle. He covered his telltale sun-gold hair with a blue hood, wrapping a loose gray scarf around the lower half of his face to cover his beard.

Kili nodded his approval, then came to Nÿr, offering his hand to help her stand.

They stood side by side, arms around each other.

Fili waved, and the little caravan became surrounded by what looked like a rag tag troop of hunters. One of the lads gave Kili a two fingered salute, and they were off.

They watched them merge into the string of other _hurmelgang_ travelers heading east, blending in.

They had just watched the tail end of the caravan disappear into the trees and were turning back to the main gate when a cry went up from the watchtower.

"Travelers on the road from Dale," Kili said, interpreting the coded call. "This early?" He held up a hand to a raven, and young Corax landed with a flap. "Who's coming, Corax? Did you see?"

"Elf," Corax said. "With a dwarf."

* * *

****Footnotes****

From the Dwarrow Scholar's Neo-Khuzdul Online Dictionary...

_Hurmelgang_ = honor journey (See Chapter 3)

_Sankundim, nadad_ = Perfect travel (travel safely) brother.

_Ukrâd, nadadith = _Greatest heart (l love you deeply) little brother


	8. Chapter 8

****In case you're new to the story and want to see some of the really cool fan art that has inspired me, I have a board on Pinterest. Just google Summer Alden Pinterest and it will come up. It's the Durin's Day board. And don't worry, Summer Alden is an alias...not my real name. :D**

**As always, Khuzdul and Elvish translations are in footnotes at the end!****

Chapter Eight

Kili, Prince of Erebor, climbed back to Ravenhill with his intended, the healer Nÿr beside him. The hill had a good view of the road.

"How far off are they?" Nÿr asked.

"Well, they're not past the halfway point or we'd see them." Kili was at the railing squinting at the road to Dale. "But there is one rider coming in," he said. "Courier."

They hurried for the watch commander's post, arriving at the same time as the tall horse, which came clattering in and slowing to a walk. Horsemasters stepped forward as the messenger, small and light for a Dale man, hopped off and offered a sealed missive.

The watch commander deferred to his Prince.

"My lord," the rider bowed when he saw Kili. "At your service."

Kili returned the bow, as was proper between Dale and Erebor. "At yours and your family's. My thanks," he added, accepting the heavy envelope and breaking the seal. "Does your King require a return reply?" he asked.

"My King is on his way," the man said. "About a half-bell behind the visitors."

Kili thanked and dismissed the rider. "You know your way to the courier quarters?"

The man nodded, excusing himself to wash, eat, and refresh with Erebor Ale.

Kili opened the message from Dale, reading quickly.

"Watch commander?" he looked at the duty officer. "Please send a message to Councilor Gloin that his son Gimli approaches. Court dress, main gate, one hour. Let him know the honor of conducting the welcome ceremony will be his."

He folded the letter. "And prepare the gate for an official state welcome," he offered his hand to Nÿr, ready to depart. "Lord Gimli brings with him a guest, an elf of the Woodland Realm, and will be followed shortly by a small delegation from Dale which will include King Bard. When the guests have all arrived, please have Councilor Gloin escort them to the Reception Room, King's Chamber." With that, he bowed his head, hand over heart, and left the watch commander to cope.

Kili and Nÿr headed back to their quarters.

"I recognize that look," she said to him. "You've got the Son of Durin glower. You all do it—from Dwalin to Hannar."

He snorted.

"Explain the problem…?" Nÿr asked.

Kili held up the folded letter. "Master Elf is Legolas, son of King Thranduil."

"Member of the Fellowship?"

"Yes," Kili acknowledged. A true hero, he supposed. "He was also a foster brother of sorts to Tauriel, the elf I once…"

Nÿr squeezed his hand. "I know who she was."

Kili looked at her, a bleak expression on his face. "I guarantee you he has no love for me, nor I him."

Nÿr winced. "So," she said. "Icy relations ahead. We should dress warm."

* * *

The Sons of Durin had learned a thing or two about the art of political visits since all those years ago when they had blundered through the old forest only to be arrested for trespassing on King Thranduil's land.

First, appearances mattered. Kili made the chamberlains' day when he burst into the family quarters, demanding full court dress. An's maids, sniffing over the departure of the children, leapt to assist Nÿr.

A quick bath, and Kili was letting the staff get him properly dressed, complete with his prince's crown and enough mithril in his dress buckles, buttons, and cuff links to buy Esgaroth.

They even had Dwalin up and into his best dress boots and cloak.

Nÿr, not officially a princess until after she and Kili wed, was still a Lady in her own right, a Ravenspeaker, and a Daughter of Durin. Kili looked up to see that Lady An's maids had done something quite pretty with a mithril strand that crossed just above her hairline and then threaded into her hair and long braid. It created the illusion of a royal circlet without actually being one.

He smiled for the first time since hearing of the visitors when he saw her, dressed in an ash grey gown with dusty lilac bodice and bright white collar and trim. It was the perfect accent to his Prince's colors, all dark blues. She also sported three chunky rings, each worth more than the cart load of treasure Fili was hauling off to the Iron Hills. One was a patterned mithril band he had given her himself. The other two were pieces borrowed from the Queen's collection.

Dwalin bowed to her. Blushing, Nÿr inclined her head to him, hand on her heart.

The senior chamberlain stood back to assess them. "Perfect," he declared. "Understated, but in a _we do own Erebor_ kind of way."

Kili quirked an eyebrow at the fellow. "I appreciate your quick work," he said with wry humor. He thanked the rest of the staff and excused himself, Nÿr and Dwalin to the King's Hall, and then to the Reception Room. Nÿr insisted that Dwalin be her escort—though Kili wasn't fooled. She was lending him support for the walk.

"You're all right with this?" he asked her. The strict formalities of State were new to her, after all.

"I'm fine. Thank Mahal I just did all those commemorations with you last month."

Kili nodded. She was quick study and had learned well from the chamberlain's tutors.

From the King's Hall, they could hear the cheers and formalities out at the Main Gate.

"Gloin certainly knows how to preside over a parade when he wants to," Dwalin observed.

Kili looked nervous. "Better him than me."

As a member of the King's Council, Gloin certainly knew that the King was away, and he also understood that the new security protocols meant that no one would speak of it. Instead, he simply completed the public honors and guided the visitors to a private audience.

If people assumed it was an audience with the King and not the Prince, so be it.

Finally, the crowd sounded like it was breaking up, and Kili figured Gloin was bringing the visitors to the modest chamber for the Royal Audience.

Of course, _modest_ by Erebor standards still featured opulent leather chairs, plush carpets, and a massive fireplace. The room had a subtle lodge flavor, but the immense veins of mithril running through the green stone of the walls were real and the bright color on the glowing glass lampshades were actual emeralds, sapphires, and rubies.

A pounding knock on the door, an exchange of formal words between Gloin and the chamberlains, and the double doors were opened and the guests admitted. Spectators were left outside.

Gloin led the way inside, followed by Gimli, Legolas, and King Bard of Dale side by side.

Kili stood alone in the place usually taken by his brother, with Nÿr and Dwalin to the side.

Gloin bowed. "My Lord Prince. Please accept with great pleasure, my son Gimli, Lord of Erebor."

"_Shamukh ra ghelekhur aimâ!_" Kili bowed low, then opened his arms and embraced his long time friend, hugging him a little more formally than he might have if they had met alone, but his joy at seeing his distant cousin was genuine. "Mahal's blessing, it is good to see you again."

"May I present Legolas of the Woodland Realm," Gimli said, holding a hand out to the elf. "Member of the Fellowship of the Ring and friend of King Elessar, the Elfstone of Gondor, and my honored shieldbrother."

This time Kili did not bow. It was incumbent upon the guest in this case.

They regarded each other. There was a moment when they could have each flung insults.

But Legolas decided to smile. "_Mae l'ovannen, mellon_." A slight nod.

Kili considered, then said, "_Medrûnat, _Legolas." It sufficed.

"And King Bard, of Dale," Bard horned in and introduced himself before anything could go amiss. "Whom you well know." He saluted smartly. "And may I ask, where is your brother?"

"Well met, Young Bard," Kili smiled, glad to see him. "The King is unable to change his schedule today. He sends his regrets."

Bard's eyebrows twitched as if he recognized this as unusual, but he let be. "Seems like you and I spend more time together, anyway," he grinned and offered his hand. Kili grasped it, then turned to introduce Dwalin, Son of Fundin, Lord of Erebor. Heads nodded to him in respect.

And then the Lady Nÿr, Ravenspeaker and distant relation by way of King Thror's father's brother's daughter's descendants.

Gimli's mouth dropped open. "A Daughter of Durin? Why…My Lady…" He bowed, extending both hands to her. "You are as beautiful as the mithril which adorns your charming…"

Young Bard coughed. "And Prince Kili's intended."

Gimli looked up sharply. "Intended? Not betrothed? What's this?"

"A Courtship Year," she stated, softening it with a smile. "A right extended to the Daughters of Durin by Nain the First."

Bard elbowed Gimli and leaned close. "In other words, he's on probation."

Everyone laughed, and Kili tolerated it with a good natured grin. He offered her his arm.

"And doing a stellar job," Nÿr said, happily taking the arm he offered. "So I will make it plain that you should expect wedding invitations after Durin's Day." She graced them with a beautiful smile.

Legolas returned the smile, then cocked his head at Kili. "_Na vedui!_ Congratulations."

Kili bowed his head, hand on heart. "Thank you, my Lord."

The chamberlains directed the seating and offered a choice Shire wine laid down by Balin years ago (and politically appropriate, Kili thought, given the recent deeds of the shirefolk) and they made available an array of breads, nuts and dried fruits all meeting the dietary preferences of elves, even if the dwarves and the man present might call it rabbit food.

"You know, Gimli here had quite a conversation with Lady Eowyn of Rohan about the existence of dwarf women," Legolas shared.

"Lassies," Dwalin corrected with a shake of his head.

"They fuss that term," Bard said, munching on a handful of nuts. "Men and women live in Dale, lads and lassies in Erebor."

"My apologies," Legolas smiled at Dwalin.

Dwalin remained stone faced.

And at that point the wine was poured and everyone toasted The Shire, the servers discretely departing. The four dwarves of Erebor (Kili, Dwalin, Nÿr and Gloin) settled in with the King of Dale to hear from the two travelers.

"First, the true reason for this visit," Gimli began, sobering. "We have sad news to report from the Grey Havens. If the winter had been less severe, the word might have traveled faster, but we bring it now."

"Galadriel, Elrond, and Gandalf took a ship this past September," Legolas said. "They have passed into the west."

Kili hadn't expected to hear such a thing. He stared at the tall elf, then put his glass down and pressed his hands together, closing his eyes in respect.

"Gandalf," he murmured when he looked up. "This is an unexpected loss."

He stood and walked to the fire, feeling unsettled. He turned back. "May Mahal keep him," he murmured. "And Elrond. Fili and I had come to genuinely like Lord Elrond. Galadriel, regretfully, I never met."

Gimli drew breath. "Ah, but I did. A beauty like morning starlight..." his eyes suddenly looked unfocused.

Kili smiled slowly but said nothing. He suddenly felt he was not the only dwarf to have ever gone head over heels for an elven maid. But _Galadriel? _

Mahal, cousin.

"They didn't go alone," Legolas said gently.

Gimli nodded. "Bilbo and Frodo went with them."

Gloin made a sound of dismay.

Kili hadn't expected to hear that, either. "Bilbo?" he murmured. "After all these years…"

The room filled with sad silence.

"Tell me: why Frodo?" Kili asked after several minutes, slowly coming back to sit next to Nÿr. "Bilbo was old past the time of his people, I know. But Frodo? He achieved the impossible and made it home."

Nÿr clasped hands with him.

Gimli looked at this feet.

Legolas considered the question. "Alas," he said finally. "Frodo had fallen victim to an unspeakable injury," Legolas said. "On the road between Bree and Rivendell he was stabbed with a morgul blade. Those wounds never heal. Both Elrond and Aragorn tried."

Kili stared, then swallowed. "But he completed his quest. Frodo survived and went home." He wanted to say it firmly, be certain it was true. "What happened?"

Legolas seemed to struggle for words. "In the end, it seems there was just no peace for Frodo but to depart this life."

* * *

Nÿr didn't recall much past those horrible words from Legolas the elf.

It was Dwalin who saved her, begging forgiveness and feigning a need to lie down. She had, of course, insisted on accompanying him.

She regretted leaving Kili to fend for himself, but erupting into hysterics would have been worse.

Now it was old Dwalin who was comforting her, handing her a clean handkerchief to dry her tears.

"There, lassie. Just a shock."

She swallowed. "Would he do that?" she demanded. "Would Kili take that way out?"

Dwalin didn't answer right away.

"Tell me." she demanded.

"He nearly did more than once," Dwalin admitted. "In those years before the war. There's a hundred ways to kill yourself around the mountain if you really want to. Jump off a cliff," he shrugged. "Fall down a mine. Gut yourself with your own sword."

"He wouldn't."

"He tried. One time Fili found him out on a cliff in freezing weather after a particularly bad round of fever. He was ready to jump. Almost did. Figured if the fall didn't kill him, the cold would take him."

"He wouldn't leave his brother."

"In the end, that's all that kept him, I think." Dwalin smiled fondly then. "But now there's you. You're a healer for him in more ways than one, child."

"Healer," she scoffed. She sniffed, then looked at him. "A healer who needs help. I want to ask…can I ask you for help, Dwalin? Would you, I mean?"

"Anything for you."

"The mithril spells. Fili told me there's more circles around the Mountain."

Dwalin nodded. "Aye. Though it was always my brother Balin who understood the mithril more than me. I don't know if I…"

"But you have his old books. There's…there's a scroll, Fili said. In ancient dwarvish."

Dwalin stared.

"Don't you see? I think the mountain holds secrets that will help us. Help you…and maybe even help Kili."

"Healer magic?" His voice was nearly a whisper, his tone one of awe.

"Dwalin, I want you for my shieldbrother in this. If I'm right, we both get time."

"Time? How?"

"I get time with my beloved. You get time with your daughter."

Dwalin's face went white. "Lassie, you're talking about a power that none of us really understands."

Nÿr looked him with a fierceness in her eyes. "That none of us really understands _yet_."

* * *

****Footnotes****

From the Dwarrow Scholar's Neo-Khuzdul online dictionary:

_Shamukh ra ghelekhur aimâ!_ = Hail and well met!

_Medrûnat _= marginally polite: I invite you in.

From the arwen-undomiel dot com website:

_Mae l'ovannen, mellon_ = very formal form: well met, friend

_Na vedui!_ = at last!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Fili, King under the Mountain, was thirty leagues east of Erebor and enjoying himself. The line of humble travelers' wagons rolled along at a sedate pace, and the ever watchful guard (including the secret ones traveling in the woods on either side) were consistently reporting all clear.

"How come we don't go faster?" His second son, Gunz, was perched on a piebald pony next to him, getting his first chance at riding in the open woods, a bright red hood covering his gold-brown curls.

"We won't be stopping 'til nightfall, Gunz. Can you run all day?"

"Yeah."

Fili nodded to the trail. "Hop down and give it a go." He looked at the sunlight through the leafy canopy. "I'd say you have seven, eight hours before we make camp." He watched Gunz work out the problem in his head and noticed that the lad didn't leave his saddle.

"Ponies don't get tired," Gunz declared.

"Sure they do. When you get tired, I can pick you up and carry you. When they get tired, they just stop. So we have to take care of them. That means a nice steady pace that doesn't tire them out before you get to the place you're going."

But by nightfall, Fili realized that while the ponies were ready to stop and rest for the night, he had three energetic young dwarrow children who were full of pent-up energy and excitement. So he put them to work. Just because they were princes and a princess didn't mean they couldn't learn to unsaddle ponies, brush them down, pick their hooves, and give them feed and water. Not to mention petting and praise.

Now, in the last light of evening, all three raced in circles inside the perimeter of their camp, spinning, laughing, and climbing all over a large downed tree trunk. He stood like a sentinel, watchful, and they came to him every once in awhile to share a thrill or declare something amazing before running off again.

"They're all riding with you tomorrow," An declared, coming up beside him.

Fili grinned. He was certain they had been a handful, cooped up inside the wagon.

"Heck with riding," he said. "I'm fitting them with halters and lead lines. Let 'em walk."

An laughed. "Is it safe enough for a campfire?"

Fili looked at the glowing lights of the many other camps in the little grove. "I think so," he said to her.

"Hey, kiddos!" he called. All three leapt up from a bug hunting game and came running. "Who thinks they can start a fire with a flint?" He pulled three flints from his pocket, watching their eyes light up as all three held out their hands.

This was the best reward, Fili smiled, for all the hard years of fighting. His children out in the open, happy and carefree, learning to live life.

He only wished his brother could be here, too.

* * *

It was late when Kili returned to the family quarters and found Nÿr curled up in one of the leather chairs in the great room. She had a sheaf of papers in her arms and looked as though she'd dozed off reading. He recognized his brother's scrawl on the pages.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, brushing hair from her forehead. "Are you all right?"

Her eyes opened and she uncurled a bit. After a moment she nodded.

"I'm sorry for leaving like that."

He shrugged. "Dwalin needs to be looked after." He frowned at the papers.

"From your brother," she explained, gathering them together and setting them aside. "The news about Lord Elrond reminded me that he'd given me these to read."

"His notes from Elrond's visit?"

She nodded. "Fili said Elrond taught him the _athelas_ spell."

Kili was silent a moment, then pulled up a footstool and sat facing her. He took her hands. "Nÿr, there's also a lot that Elrond told us that Fili never wrote down. Things Gandalf said as well."

She looked up, her eyes revealing her intense interest.

"Mostly about Thrain, but I think the same applies to this news about Frodo."

Her brows came together in a frown.

"In their cases, the curse was affected, probably amplified, by rings of power. Thrain had one of the Seven. Frodo had the One."

He watched Nyr's expression changing as she thought through the difference.

"I don't have any rings of power," he said, looking her in the eye and spelling it out. "And I never want to see one. I won't even go near that Circle down in the King's Hall. Believe me, I stay away from magicked metal like it's an overheated forge."

"You think that's the difference?" she asked, her voice sounding small.

"I know it's the difference," he said, firmly. "Those rings meant that Thrain and Frodo were plagued by worse than just their morgul wounds-every waking hour. I only have to deal with one curse, four or five days a year."

She looked ready to object that four or five was still too many.

He leaned forward now, holding her hands tightly. "It hasn't always been easy, and sometimes…it just gets to me. But here's what I know." He looked into her eyes to be sure he had her attention.

"I will gladly give those five days to the curse if it means I have the other 360 with you, with my brother and the free people of Erebor."

She blinked, then slid forward with a little cry of protest, settling on her knees with her arms coming tight around his waist.

"If I could change it, Kili," she said, her voice muffled against this chest. "I would."

He smiled sadly and put his arms around her slender form, rubbing her back and resting his head against hers.

"I know you would, sweetheart. I know."

* * *

Even so, Nÿr and Dwalin spent three days going through the old dwarf's personal effects, then through all of the books in Nÿr's study. Kili might be willing to live with his curse the way it was, but she was certain he hadn't been told about the rumor—the one about the hidden ones cooking up something to add, something that had the potential to finish him off.

So she was determined to double check every book on the shelves.

It had once been Balin's study, after all.

On the third day, she found what she was looking for.

A plain bound book about three inches thick. She had overlooked it in her first searches since there was no title on the spine. But this time she was methodically pulling every book off the shelves and checking the title pages.

When she opened the cover on this one, she discovered it wasn't really a book. It was a cleverly disguised box, and inside, a scroll.

"Dwalin!" she gasped.

He was at her side in an instant. There was a loose bit of paper inside with bold handwriting.

"My brother's hand," Dwalin said, lifting the note. "_Sanzigil-zigrel._" He was quiet a moment. "Mithril-magic. Balin always marveled that the two words were so similar."

"Mithril and magic…" Nÿr said.

"Yes. One is the key to the other in the crafts. Sauron may have used gold, but Durin, oldest and wisest metal master, used mithril." Dwalin looked at her with a wicked gleam in his eye. "Always."

* * *

It was the same day that Kili, Prince of Erebor, had his trainees back in the lower levels.

"Today we climb the mountain for the fifth time, lads. But to keep things interesting, the game is changing. Today, we go up first and the lassies will follow. It's their last time today—so they are about to graduate on to arms training."

Thirty faces frowned at him. The lads didn't much like being behind the ladies in the training schedule.

"We will go in one group this time—so you'll need to stay with me and travel at my pace. Today's reward for making it to the top is a day off tomorrow."

The trainees murmured their interest in this. Kili knew they were ready for such a break.

"But here's the catch. The lassies are playing the role of orc-horde and they will be trying to overtake us. If you fall behind and they take you, you are out of the game. It also means you will be back here tomorrow for a second chance at completing your fifth climb."

Silence. Clearly, none of them wanted to be that lad.

"Those of you who keep ahead of the orc-horde and make it to the top with me are excused from tomorrow's climb. You'll get to spend the day getting an introduction to weapons training instead."

Gasps went through the group now. That was the prize worth fighting for. He saw instant resolve on all their faces. Fjalar looked especially keen. "Swords," he breathed. Several lads nodded.

Kili quirked an eyebrow. So the lad wanted the warrior's blade over an axe.

He went on. "Be forewarned that the lassies take their role as orcs very seriously. You've gone against them three times now with snowballs."

They looked grim. They'd yet to prevail.

"This time, we get there first and we will be the ones who get a chance to ambush them for a change." He grinned. "But the lassies will start only half a bell behind us. That doesn't give us much breathing room," he told them. "So, are you ready?" he asked.

Heads nodded. Some looked dubious. Others, Fjalar included, looked determined.

"What's that?" he made a face as if wondering what had happened to their voices.

"Yes, sir!" one of them answered.

"Only one?"

They all roared now.

"That's my lads!" he smiled. In the distance, they heard the first bell after noon ringing.

"Du bekar!" he shouted and raised his fist, and they echoed the cry as he charged up the first flight, thirty trainees and their lieutenant at his heels.

* * *

On the last night before their arrival at The King's Hall in the Iron Hills, Fili revealed himself to his fellow travelers. He had to, since it wouldn't be fair to surprise them with it on Stonehelm's doorstep tomorrow. He tapped three of the ale barrels from his cart load and with the help of several hardy guards, made the rounds of the campfires, offering up tributes.

"Anyone want an Ale?" he called, interrupting dinner at one of the larger fire circles.

He was greeted with immediate takers and smiles, and the children were instantly off in games of chase with other youngsters—something they rarely had a chance to do at home.

"Welcome, my lord," one of the grizzled wagonmasters greeted him with a wink, quick to help himself to a full flagon. "We thought there was something mighty familiar about the leader of that one caravan."

"Ah, foiled again," Fili joked along with him. "My thanks for your discretion, sir." He toasted the master and drank up.

The presence of ale barrels drew people from the other camps, and before long, the _hurmelgang_ folks had merged into one large party around a central bonfire.

Fili had to break out three more barrels, and the other travelers brought out fiddles, harps, and drums.

An was quick to join the lassie's line, ladies-only dances that showed off footwork and boot stomping of the sort that brought roaring approval from the lads.

Iri and Gunz were sound asleep on a blanket at his feet by the time that the last logs were tossed onto the bonfire.

Hannar, however, the night owl of the family, was wide awake and a challenge to keep away from the fire pit. He was mesmerized by the blaze and kept finding sticks and other interesting bits of bark and leaves to toss into the flames.

When he picked up a long roasting stick made of iron and poked it right at the blue-white hottest part of the fire, he earned a roar of approval from a hearty group of smiths and tankards were raised in his honor.

Fili intervened before the youngster burned himself or worse, impaled someone.

"Get that one to the forge, sire!" the older fellows cheered. "He's natural, he is!"

"Is that going to be the way of it, laddie?" Fili asked his youngest son, who struggled when Fili lifted him up, only to relax when he realized he was in his father's arms. "Mahal's lad, are you? Your Uncle Thorin would be proud."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Kili, Prince of Erebor, was soaked to the bone.

"We have a problem brewing," Kili said, striding into the Annex's great room in his soggy gear. It was well past the dinner hour, and Nÿr and Dwalin had an old scroll spread out on the oak table and several books open. They looked up, surprised at his appearance.

"What happened to you?" Nÿr asked. She stood to help him peel off wet gear.

Dwalin met his eyes, already understanding the issue. "Snowmelt," he said.

"Yes. My trainees ran up the stairs in good time this afternoon, but the mock-battle at the top was another draw. Nothing but slush. Couldn't make a decent snowball if you tried."

"How much snow is still up there?" Dwalin asked, concerned.

"Too much, and the weatherwatchers are calling for a week of sunny warm weather." Kili shucked his leather leggings. "Time to call a floodwatch and sandbag the main gate."

Dwalin nodded. "Are you calling a council?"

"First thing in the morning. I'll get the night crews working on the bagging…"

"I don't understand," Nÿr said, draping Kili's wet overcoat over a hook near the fire.

"The snow is long gone around gate level," Kili told her. "But it's still twenty feet deep in the higher elevations. In a normal year it all melts a little at a time, but once in awhile we get a streak of warm spring weather at the wrong time."

"And?"

"Snowpack melts all at once," Dwalin said. "All that water races down the mountain." He shook his head. "And we had especially heavy snow this year."

"Makes a mess," Kili said, stripping off his gauntlets. "The waterfalls overflow, new ones will show up in places we don't expect...water even starts seeping through stone. The river will be one big whitewater torrent."

"There'll be washouts," Dwalin said. "Send ravens to Dale and close the road."

Kili nodded. "Last time this happened," Kili said to Nÿr, sloughing off his soaked overshirt. "I remember the mountain literally shaking with the force of pounding water. The Falls at the gate flooded the road, mist was blowing everywhere. The main hall had a foot of water in it... Everything was wet from the King's Hall to Dale. Shipments can't get out…supplies can't get in…"

"Not to mention the flooding in the lower levels," Dwalin said. "I can warn the miners."

"No," Kili said. "I have plenty of help. I need you to stay with Nÿr." He nodded at the newly discovered windows and the exposed Ledge outside. "Keep a watch on that. I don't think any of us know whether we'll have water in here or not." He knew Nÿr didn't really need the help…but Dwalin was too sick to be running around Erebor. "I'll send some lads up with sandbags…you can show them where to stack."

The older dwarf looked defiant for a moment, then seemed to recognize that he needed to stay put. Kili waited for him to accept the assignment he'd been given. After a moment, Dwalin nodded.

"All right, I'll behave," he grumbled. "But tell me where that elf is," he demanded.

"Gone to visit his royal father. Gimli and Gloin are in Dale." Kili peeled off his shirt.

Nÿr caught it before he could drop it on the floor. She was raising an eyebrow at him. "At least get dry clothes on before you take off again."

He looked at her, aware of the impact his shirtless self was having on her. He grinned. "Good idea." He headed for the bath, aware that she followed, scooping up soggy gear as she went.

But he wasn't aware that Nÿr and Dwalin exchanged a quick look of relief that he hadn't noticed the charts of mithril spells spread out on the table.

Half a bell later Kili was making his way through the lower levels, checking in with watch commanders and prompting flood preparations. He stopped at the forges, which ran night and day. You couldn't keep the smiths from working, after all. It was in their blood, so to speak.

But he warned the forgemaster and ordered the water-wheels closed down and locked at sunrise. The forgemaster understood. The last thing she wanted was too much water around the furnaces of her massive forges.

In the mining levels, Kili found the dining hall full of rowdy miners drinking ale and smoking. Unlike the smiths, miners would call it a day at the fifth bell. Even the fourth if they felt like it.

"Bofur!" He called out. The miners who heard him raised their tankards in salute and repeated the call. Bofur's name echoed amidst roars and laughs and Kili scanned the hall for his old companion.

"Kili, my lad!" The voice was unmistakably Bofur, and Kili spotted him to the left, not far from a blazing, oversized fireplace.

Kili made his way to Bofur's bench, embracing the hardy miner.

"Have a round with us, laddie!" Bofur was well into his evening ale.

"Love to," Kili said. "But I'm here with bad news."

Bofur's face fell. "Not the ale…is it running low?"

"Nah," Kili grinned. "You know better than that." He smacked Bofur's arm. "Snowmelt. Get your lads ready for high water."

Bofur's merry smile faded to stunned concern. "Like last year…?"

Kili shook his head. "No, more like the flood of '04."

"Mahal's hammer and tongs in a bucket…" Then he looked at his ale, considered it, and quaffed the remainder, tilting his head back as he finished it off to roars of approval. Bofur raised the empty tankard, turned it upside down to prove it was drained, and laughed loud at the applause.

"Better now?" Kili grinned at him.

"No. But it'll tide me over while I get the flood works going." He slapped Kili on the back. "Do me a favor, lad?"

"What's that?" Kili put a companionable arm around Bofur's shoulder.

"Show up some time when you have good news. You're like a harbinger of woe these days. Too much time with those damned ravens, I think. Now that lassie you have," he wiggled his eyebrows. "Spend your time with her…"

Kili laughed, but he kept his arm around his old friend, steering him to the door.

It was one thing to give Bofur a warning. It was a completely different thing to get him away from the ale barrels and on the move.

* * *

Fili, King under the Mountain, was about to become Fili, Son-in-Law Remiss in his Duty to his Lady Wife's Kin and Kith. He fully expected a degree of disapproval from An's parents…never mind that he'd been completely pre-occupied with defending the northern lands from the legions of Sauron for the last ten years.

He was resigned to their hard feelings. And he knew it was time to face the music, since the _hurmelgang_ would be at the King's Hall in the Iron Hills by mid-day. At least he had Iri along as a personal shield-maiden. An's parents had never yet met his youngest and he was counting on her charming little self to take the heat off him. It was something like sending a hobbit to face a dragon.

The _hurmelgang_ was not up and ready to travel yet, but Fili had ridden a half a mile ahead in the early morning mist. He was escorting a pair of scouts who were heading out with a set of written missives: one from him to Thorin Stonehelm, the Iron Hills King, letting him know that five members of Erebor's royal family were about to descend on him. The other note was from Lady An to her parents with a similar message.

"Safe journey, lads," Fili nodded to them, hand on heart. They nodded back, returning the gesture, and turned their ponies east at a good clip.

He turned back for camp, his small escort of "hunters" riding casually beside him.

He was going to miss being an anonymous merchant traveler. Being King was over-rated sometimes, he reflected. At least they would have breakfast by the campfire before he had to cast off the comfortably worn leathers of Fili, the lad from Ered Luin and don the more formal gear of Fili, King of Erebor. His guard would also change…from a rag tag group of hunters to the smartly dressed Royal Guard they really were.

And then they'd all give up this blessed freedom in exchange for rigid protocol and political posturing.

But Fili was ready to do it. He was secretly on the hunt and his quarry was a young orphan lass living somewhere in Stonehelm's settlements. He wondered how Dwalin was doing. Wondered if the lass was much like him. Whoever she was, she was a Daughter of Durin and a rarity among dwarves. He wondered if she knew. Wondered if Stonehelm even knew. It would be interesting to find out.

But first he had to find her.

* * *

At sunrise, Kili was out at the Main Gate with the watch commander and several of the craftmasters. A berm of sandbags curved between the gate itself and the backside of the waterfall, or The Waterveil as it was called, and then right along the riverbank. Mist blew like a hurricane through the gate into the mountain as well as billowing down the vale. On the other hand, the early morning sun made it shimmer with rainbows—a singularly beautiful sight.

"The water is at its lowest right now," the stonemaster shouted to be heard over the pounding roar. "It will increase as the sun rises and warms the heights. Peak flow is around the fourth bell this afternoon…maybe five or six times this much water!"

Kili nodded. It was as serious as he'd feared.

The floors were already swamped.

"I've sent ravens," he shouted back. "Closing the road at Dale."

The stonemaster nodded.

"What else do you need?" Kili asked, holding his hood up to fend off mist. Water dripped off his nose anyway.

"More sandbags!" The stonemaster gestured at a point where he wanted to see another dam. "If we can't stop the water here, the first stairways down to mine level will be raging like the river."

Kili nodded. They had a few hours and dwarves were well known for their ability to work hard and fast. But his heart was sinking. Dwarves also understood the power of water. They even harnessed it to run things like the massive forgeworks inside the mountain.

But they all knew it could overpower even the best and wiliest dwarves.

They might well be fighting a losing battle.

And the clock was ticking.

* * *

****Water and Erebor: Yes, I'm taking a few liberties with the hydrology of Erebor. (Did I mention this is an AU!) Depending on whose art you look at, there's a waterfall at or near the main gate and the river exits through or to the side of the gate. For this story, I've placed the waterfall in front of and to the right of the gate (outside looking in.) The river issues from the base of the waterfall and runs to Dale, and the road follows alongside. The run-off from the waterwheels at the forge (movieverse, here) would channel out the front gate, but those (as we know from the movie) can be turned on/off. **

**My real-life waterfall knowledge comes from years of hiking Yosemite Valley in California. If you've never been there in the spring after a heavy snow pack, the valley literally vibrates with the force of all the water.  
**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Summer.**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Fili, visiting King of Erebor in the Iron Hills, ended his long day in an overstuffed chair in front of a fireplace in the guest quarters of the King's Hall. Everyone else was long abed, but Fili was watching his night-owl son Hannar and hoping the lad would get tired. It was not an odious duty. He'd spent most of his life taking night watch, after all, and he rather liked quiet time at the end of his day.

At least the youngster had shifted from wildcat hellion to cute puppy playing quietly with a new toy.

About a dozen crusty Erebor smiths had brought it to the wagon when they were packing up that morning. A toy sized bench fitted with wooden pegs and a child-sized mallet. The object was to learn hammer skills by pounding the pegs down, then flipping the little bench and pounding them back the other way. They seemed convinced that this little Son of Durin had the smithing bug. Not an unlikely thing…Thorin Oakenshield had been a superb smith and was genuinely revered by those who worked the forge and anvil. Fili was honored that the senior smith felt Hannar had potential.

"Three skills," the senior smith had said. "First, the power hammer: one solid hit square on the peg to seat it."

Hannar had that down already, Fili reflected.

"Second, tapping. Seven small taps to seat the peg. Trains him to use finesse."

That was not Hannar's strong suit, by any stretch. Fili wondered whether the lad would ever achieve it.

"Last, rhythm hammer. Strike the peg, then the solid wood without losing momentum. Like hammering a blade on an anvil…hit the blade, then tap the anvil while you turn the blade, keeping your rhythm."

So far, Hannar had only achieved a variation here. Basically, he could hammer everything the room without losing momentum. Whether it was strictly rhythmic, Fili wasn't sure.

At least the toy was felted to reduce the noise.

Hannar brought him the little bench to show all the pegs fully seated.

"I'm very impressed, Han. You like this game." Fili bent to kiss his little son's forehead. Hannar wasn't as talkative as his little sister. He was more a physical lad. Fili saw the lad smiling with complete, innocent trust in his eyes, then he turned back to his toy, flipping it over and sitting between Fili's feet to give it another go.

Fili smiled. This was the way of it with Hannar. If Fili sat still with him, the lad's play would gradually slow down and he'd fall asleep. With any luck he would be sagging sideways with his cheek against Fili's knee by the time the fire burned down.

Fili was patient enough to wait him out.

Since he could feel Hannar against his feet, Fili let his head fall back and his eyes close.

The day had gone fairly well, he thought. The Iron Hills welcome had been easy-going and pleasant. Iri, as he'd hoped, completely mesmerized her grandparents-so much so that An looked a bit put out at being upstaged. He had been quick to reassure her that she still had top billing in his view, but he also found her reaction a bit humorous.

The Iron Hills people were certainly good and generous. Erebor's closest allies. But the Hill people had retained something about Dwarven traditions that the people of Erebor had lost when the dragon had decimated their home.

Fili had trouble clearly identifying it…he privately called it _stodginess_. Hill people retained a set of rigid beliefs and social traditions, logical or not, because "we've always done it that way." It made them a bit too judgmental in many ways.

Those same beliefs had been lost, forgotten or simply discarded by the people of Erebor. The stress of loss and roaming the wilderness had toughened them, making them much less hide-bound and far more accepting. They had re-drafted the rules, so to speak, and greatly reduced their import at the same time.

Fili liked Erebor's ways better. He honestly didn't care who sat in what order at the dining table and whether this dwarf would be affronted by that dwarf's placement. He just wanted everyone to get fed—and Mahal, when you got down to it, wasn't that the most important thing about dinner? Try going without a few months. He'd lived through those times.

"Da?" He felt Hannar clutching his pant leg. He opened half an eye to see the bench toy abandoned but the little mallet clutched in one hand. Fili pulled him up to cuddle. This time he didn't make eye contact. It would just wake the lad up, and the point here was to lure him to sleep. Hannar sat, turning the mallet over in his hands, then abruptly threw himself against Fili's chest.

Ah. The first sign of the elusive sleepy child.

He breathed deep, hopeful that Hannar was drifting off.

At least he'd made an important first step toward finding Dwalin's daughter Beka.

An had stumbled upon Nama, a Hill guard who'd accompanied An as a bodyguard on that first trip to Erebor before they'd been married. An had done a stellar job of bringing Nama along as they settled into the guest quarters, and the plump guard was a fount of information.

Not all of it was what Fili _wanted_ to hear, but it was needful to hear.

An had cut to the chase and simply shared the letter to Dwalin from Hlió the healer.

"Hlió's passed on," Nama had said. But the look on her face—confused and pensive—had told Fili that she knew something.

"You knew Hazar," he'd guessed.

"Yes. I did," Nama had confirmed. "A good lass with an axe. We trained together."

"You know about her child?"

Nama had stared at the letter, looking as though she wanted to turn away from it yet unable to actually do so.

Fili had used one of his mother's tricks on her and gentled his voice and touched her hand. "Tell me what you know, Nama?" He used his mother's best imploring look.

Nama had taken a deep breath and handed the letter back. "What Hlió says here isn't strictly true," she'd said in a quiet voice. "Hazar didn't die in childbirth. He was putting a more respectable face on the story."

An gasped, but Fili simply nodded and waited.

"She had no trouble bearing that child. It was a quick birth." Nama hesitated. "But she was unwed."

Fili understood instantly. Erebor dwarves wouldn't bat an eye at that. Neither did the people of the Blue Mountains. Lassies had the choice of it and it was their business. Hill folk, though. Their ideas were more rigid. An unwed lass with a babe would be shunned or hidden without a strong lad to stand up for her.

"I don't actually think that was the reason behind what she did next," Nama fidgeted now. "Hazar was a warrior. She went to Erebor that year to do good things and defend our people." Nama met Fili's eyes. "But she didn't understand what real war would be like. She lost friends. She saw what happened to the eastern outpost."

Fili nodded. The eastern outpost had been overrun that year. Burned. The soldiers there…he'd seen it. The hard truth of warfare is that the enemy is brutal, and he may even enjoy it.

"Mahal opened his doors to them," he murmured.

"Yes," Nama agreed. "Hazar came home, had her child months later. She waited the proper two weeks and then named her."

Fili nodded. That was the usual practice. "She named her Beka."

Nama smiled. "Yes. Battle-maiden. We all thought it appropriate. But then she handed the lass to another and left. She took a small pack and her axe." Nama had looked Fili in the eye now. "And walked into the woods alone. We didn't find her body until the snowmelt. She'd used her hunting knife."

Fili had stood still. He'd not expected that, though he knew it was an all-too familiar outcome for some warriors. They could win on the field of war and lose in the halls of home.

He had closed his eyes and mourned for the lass, isolated, alone…

He wasn't sure he could ever tell Dwalin.

"Where is the lass Beka now?"

Nama's expression had gone bleak. "I'm not sure. I was posted to the southern settlement, and as far as I know, Hazar's daughter stayed here."

They had both been quiet, then. "But if you need help finding her," Nama said, "I would offer my service." Fili had noticed Nama's hard swallow. "I would do it in memory of Hazar."

"Please," Fili had said. Nama had nodded.

"And thank you for telling me this."

Mahal, but it had been hard to hear. The sad truth that surviving a battle didn't mean the warrior would live happily ever after.

He only had to look at his brother to know that.

So many times that could have been Kili. One time it almost was.

But Fili knew this about war. There were no unwounded warriors. There was the fury, the heat of the battle, the camaraderie. And there was the aftermath, the pain, and sometimes the secrets that were hard to keep, the images that were hard to forget.

_I saw things unspeakable._

_I am wounded in a way I can't tell you about._

_This whining of everyday folks is intolerable._

And then that echo of Kili's voice, Kili's tears, his eyes dark with anguish.

_It's too much, Fee. Please just let me go..._

Fili opened his eyes, so badly wanting to deny he'd ever heard those words from his brother. So wishing he could change things, so grieved that he could not.

Little child snores drew his attention. The fire had burned to embers, the rooms were quiet.

He looked at his little son. The lad's grip on the little mallet had loosened.

The trick now, Fili told himself, was to get Hannar to his bed without waking him up.

* * *

****the optional personal footnote/rant. No worries if you want to skip. Apologies if its too much personal info.****

First, if you haven't seen (Fili actor) Dean O'Gorman's photography—he has an online exhibit of veteran images (some are actual vets, most are fellow actors.) Veteran-approved. Google "Dean O'Gorman photography" and click on "exhibition." He gets expressiveness from his subjects that shows the pain of the warrior in a way that touches something very individual. He's showing the impact of war on the soldier through expression and posture and the costuming. I think it's brilliant work on his part and would love to see a US exhibit. (There's my soft spot for Fili.)

Second: the suicide rate among returning vets in the US right now is heartbreaking. There are stories in every town. There's no easy answer for the why, except that as civilians, we have no idea the level of trauma our veterans are trying to process. We just don't.

How does this relate to Tolkien? JRRT was of course a WWI vet. He understood the deep connections between warriors. Frodo personifies the wounded warrior in so many ways… Modern vets find his work accessible because it gives them the band of brothers story in a time with simpler weapons and a clearly defined conflict.

OK, rant over!

My thanks for reading the story... Summer**


	12. Chapter 12

****Nothing but story and from here to the end... Promise! And thanks so much for your support!****

Chapter Twelve

Erebor was evacuating the mining families from the lower levels.

Fjalar, prince of Erebor, and his fellow cadet trainees, lads and lasses combined, found themselves assigned to a group of miner families from the silver hall, and now they were all laden with bags, trunks, carrycases, pots and pans, and of course, valuable tools. They were moving everything up fifteen stories, from the north side to the south.

"I'd rather climb the stairs up to the lookout," Mieth complained. He had a small trunk perched on one shoulder and two heavy bags over the other.

Fjalar winced. "Don't say that where anyone can hear you, dufus," he looked around to see if anyone had, then frowned at his friend. "They'd help your family if things were reversed." Fjalar had one large bag on his back, one in his arms, and a pair of pots that clanked when he walked.

Mieth looked guilty, ducked his head, then nodded.

"Where is your family?" Fjalar asked, suddenly wondering if they also lived in the lower levels.

"Forge level. It won't flood up there."

"That's good, then."

"Mine live on the gemcutters floor," one of the lasses piped up. "I keep asking, but no one seems to know where they've been sent." She looked worried as she carried the front end of a heavy trunk, another trainee lass had the back.

"Maybe we can ask when we get to where we're taking all this," Mieth offered.

Fjalar smiled at him. That was better.

"Where's your family?" Mieth asked him.

Fjalar wondered if he should answer. His uncle had pulled him aside two days ago and told him—his Dad, mom, brothers and sister were off to visit his grandparents in the Iron Hills. Pretty unfair, he thought, going without him. But his uncle had reminded him: the King and the heir can not leave Erebor at the same time.

_Besides,_ his uncle had said with a grin. _Can't have you missing weapons training._

No, indeed, Fjalar had agreed.

"The south-western side," he said, keeping it vague. "High enough not to worry." Not everyone knew where the royal family quarters were. He'd been cautioned to keep it that way.

Ahead of them, a granny with two children, one in her arms, shouted for help. Her older one was fussing and she couldn't keep hold of him.

And Erebor's open-air walkways had no railings.

One of the mining captains called out that he was on it, but Fjalar could see there wasn't time for the fellow to reach them. The lad stumbled and slid.

Right for the edge.

"Here," Fjalar said, shoving the large sack in his arms at Mieth. And he darted forward and went to his knees as the line of trudging people halted.

"Got you," Fjalar said, reaching hard for the young lad and grabbing his leg. He managed to swing him back up and get on his feet with the child in his arms.

And then he was face to face with a pair of very worried brown eyes. "You're as lucky as your Da, you are," Bofur smiled. "Good catch, there, Cadet." He held out an arm to take the child and winked at Fjalar.

* * *

Nÿr wore healer blue as she descended one of the main staircases through Erebor's hub. She was hurrying herself along, but more people were heading up the stairs than down.

She'd left Dwalin for the night, tucked into his bed with the old nurse Svi dozing in a chair in the room nearby.

He'd started his day well enough, but by evening, wasn't well. No appetite, testy, and without enough strength to walk out to the ledge and back without help.

Any benefit he'd gotten from the milkvetch doses was apparently gone.

And even more disturbing, the mass in his gut had hardened and grown in the last week. By itself it might not cause ill health, but healers knew that these things often resided inside an organ or at the very least, they inhibited or obstructed one.

Once optimistic about the amount of time Dwalin had left, Nÿr was starting to worry whether he would last another two weeks.

"Nÿr!"

She turned to see Kili catching up to her.

"Where you off to?" He caught her hand in his.

"Infirmary. Breech birth," she said. "The senior physician sent Svi up to sit with Dwalin…asked if I'd come. The infirmary's having a busy night."

Kili nodded. "I bet. Flooding in the lower mines. Spring erupted out of nowhere like a broken waterway. Miners, gear, stuff everywhere. What a time for a delivery, though." His brows drew together in concern.

"Well, you can't stop them, and they get overlooked in times like this. I hope I can help."

Kili looked her in the eye. "No one better. You all right getting there?" he scanned the crowd as if assessing her chances of making it across to the infirmary. "Lots of people on the move tonight." Oblivious to the prince in their midst, people were swarming around them, in fact.

"Of course." She leaned forward to give him one of those perfectly chaste public kisses. A peck on the cheek. "I'll see you later…"

"Yes," he said, returning the gesture with a kiss on her forehead and a squeeze of her hand. "I hope all goes well," he said, meaning the birth.

She nodded, and their hands parted as people stepped between them. When she reached the landing and looked back, she didn't see him. But no matter. She had a job to do—and Erebor's people mattered to her.

She managed a well-known shortcut and made it to the infirmary minutes later, surprised to see crowds in the hallways, including one quite rotund, red-faced lass with a very worried lad who were standing about number fifty in line. The lass held her round belly, panting with a look of resigned alarm and a sweaty sheen on her face.

"Mahal's mother!" Nÿr got an arm around the poor lass. "Come along, right now." She gestured for the lad to follow.

"She's not next in line," an oldster complained.

"She's about to give birth on your feet, sir," Nÿr stated firmly. "And I hardly think you'll want her bed in the delivery room."

The poor panting lass looked fearful, as if uncertain of moving ahead of the others.

"Come," Nÿr said, using an imperious tone Lady An had coached. _For when you just need to get things moving along. Act the queen and they'll scatter._ "I know everyone needs help, but we are not having a child born in the hallway." Most of them stepped aside quickly, but Nÿr stopped at the surly form of the oldster, blocking their way. "Move aside, if you please."

He looked ready to deliver a flaming retort when a stocky guard tapped his shoulder.

It was Fria, the lassie's cadet commander.

"Did you lose your hearing trumpet?" she demanded of the old fellow.

The oldster turned, affronted, his face reddening. Fria managed to lean forward into him, causing him to step back and inadvertently make way.

Nÿr rushed the laboring lass ahead, the young father just behind, murmuring her thanks.

Fria nodded and stood her ground. "That was the Lady Nÿr saying _please _to you, Lýthur." She said in their wake. She apparently knew the oldster. "Don't ask her for a Royal decree, either. She'd bring it."

"Come on, sweetheart," Nÿr coached the panting lass. "Just a little further… What's your name?"

The poor lass couldn't speak.

"Rúna," the lad said. "And I'm Wali."

"Nice to meet you, Rúna and Wali. I'm Nÿr…"

"Lady Nÿr," Rúna panted.

"The lady part doesn't really matter at the moment." She made it to a staff entry and whisked the pair inside.

"Nÿr, breech birth in the delivery hall…they need you," one of the trainees said as she passed.

"Yes! And this poor lass is about to have her baby the hallway." She turned to make eye contact with the trainee. "Get someone out there and pull any pregnant ones inside right now. All this excitement," she said, turning her lass down the final hall. "It brings on labour unexpectedly."

She swung the lass into the delivery room, already full.

"Another!" It was Birta, the head midwife. "Here, love." She held out an arm, making room.

"Birta, this is Rúna and Wali… Rúna, this is Birta…" Nÿr said, rushing to the scrubbing sink.

One of the trainees came forward to help her scrub. "The breech is bad," she murmured. "We can't get the little one turned."

Nÿr let the trainee help douse her hands in alcohol.

"Birta says you know the technique they use in the Blue Mountains…"

"Yes," Nÿr said. "Though it doesn't always work." She looked up worried, spotting her patient: an exhausted, older matron who couldn't even grip the assistant's hand. "But let's see what we have."

* * *

It was well into the early morning hours when the evacuation leaders reported that all of the mining families were resettled. Kili had heard the report of his nephew saving the errant lad on the walkway. He'd also heard fifty other stories of dwarves helping dwarves. It was their way.

He had just checked on Dwalin, seen that his intended was not yet home, and turned himself around.

Now he was striding into a packed infirmary, mostly quiet, and asking for Nÿr.

"I can take you," a trainee lad said, gesturing for Kili to follow.

The delivery room was in a side wing, to the back. The lad showed him to the open door, and Kili, having never been there before, suddenly stopped and questioned himself.

_Mahal…should I be here?_ The only births he had any experience with had been Fili's children…and they had all been delivered in the family chambers. His job had been to keep Fili well away.

"It's quiet in there at the moment," the lad grinned. "And none of them will bite," he said. "At least not yet."

Kili nodded, then bravely stepped inside.

The first thing he saw was a gangly lad with a bundle in his arms and a wide-eyed, beaming expression. He reminded Kili sharply of a young Ori for some reason. An exhausted lass lay asleep on the bed behind him.

"Lad." the young dwarf said, holding the bundle up, shyly proud.

Kili couldn't help but smile. He peeked at the little face and touched the new father's arm. "Mahal's blessing, my friend," he murmured, hand on heart.

And then he saw Nÿr, holding a tiny bundle, her face tired but happy.

"Everything all right?" He turned to her.

"Yes, love. Another lad, of course. Gave his mother a hard time…but I think everyone's out of the woods. Such an angry little screamer until we made sure he got some feeding!" She smiled. "And I'm sure that's a pattern he will follow all his years."

Kili snorted. Nÿr handed the swaddled infant over to a night shift trainee.

"If you're done adding to our population," he said to her, holding his arm out. "I would be honored to escort you home."

She slid against him, and he settled his arm on her shoulder, feeling himself relax at her closeness. What a long day this had been.

"Lady Nÿr?" It was the first young lad with the new baby in his arms. Kili noticed he looked somewhat petrified, but was bravely stepping up.

"Oh, Wali…look at him!" Nÿr reached one hand out to brush fingertips on the little head.

"He's so perfect," Wali breathed. Then he looked at Nÿr rather earnestly.

"Please," he said, his voice shaking. "Can we invite you to the naming? I mean, you were so brave out there. If it weren't for you…I don't how it would have gone…we'd have never gotten in."

Nÿr was smiling at the lad. "He wasn't in danger, I don't think." Nÿr looked at the newborn. "But your new mum is sure better off in here than out there. That's what I say…" She looked back at Wali. "We'd be honored to attend the naming."

* * *

Fili was up and dressed for a busy day. Nama, An's former bodyguard, arrived at the same time as the breakfast trays.

"Girl's not anywhere, so far." She reported. "But I've got some old guard friends looking around…discreetly, of course."

An poured tea and offered hot rolls.

"The foster mother was Oda, a seamstress. Passed on about nine years back. The lass stayed on with her foster brother for awhile, but my source in the sewing hall says he scared her off. Word was he started negotiating a match for her."

Fili nearly spit out his tea. "At her age?"

"A future arrangement, you understand."

Fili still felt horrified. "She's not old enough to make a Choice for another, what…80 years?" And for someone to try that with a Daughter of Durin. _Dwalin's_ daughter…? Never mind that they didn't know it. It was the kind of idiocy that always made him want a sword in his hand and something to smash.

Nama nodded as if she understood and raised an eyebrow. "Girl wouldn't have it, though. Went to ground."

"What—she ran away?"

Nama held her hands out as if to say yes. "Trouble is, she could be anywhere. Could have relocated to one of the other settlements, even. Would be hard to do on her own—she'd need a lad to stand for her. You know, Stonehelm's got everyone leaning conservative about the roles of lads and lassies. Did you hear he's stopped the lassies' cadet training?"

Fili frowned.

"Put me out of a job, that edict did. Thinks we're all better suited for raising babies and homemaking now that the war effort's over."

Fili made a face and shook his head. It was hard to imagine any Erebor warrior tolerating it. It would be hard to imagine defending Erebor without them.

"My seamstress friend thinks the child could be hiding among the laundry lasses or the kitchen help," Nama went on. "Someone could have taken her on as a domestic easily enough. We'll keep checking, with your approval." Nama inclined her head and stood to leave.

"Please," Fili said, offering hot rolls to take along.

Once she left he turned back to An, who had a very solemn look on her face. "Now I know why you always call him Dain's whelp or Stonehelm," she said, her disgust barely concealed.

Fili looked at her with a full Durin glower. "Because it galls me that someone gave that narrow-minded idiot my uncle's name?"

She nodded.

"Enjoy your day with your family, An," he said. "Because allies or not, as soon as we find that lass, we ride for home."

* * *

**Thanks for reading! As always, drop me a note if you feel inclined, even if you're new to the story. I genuinely appreciate the follows, likes, favorites, and reviews! Mahal's blessings...**


	13. Chapter 13

****Quick note about mithril: canon says that true mithril was only found in Moria. There's lots of online speculation that the closest earth-element is titanium, followed by lots of speculation that titanium is too soft. For the purposes of this story, think of Moria-mithril and Erebor-mithril as being as different/similar as maybe platinum and palladium. It's an AU!. I invite you to roll with it.**

**As always, drop a note of feedback if so inclined!****

Chapter Thirteen

Kili, Prince of Erebor, lay flat on his back in exhausted sleep well past breakfast.

Nÿr snuggled against his right side, against her beloved, their shared room lit only by the last embers in the fireplace. She would not wake him. The water volume from the snowmelt would be low for a few more hours. She would be sure he was up once the sunlight warmed the heights, since that's when they would see the worst of the pounding waterfalls and the snowmelt flooding would peak. One more rough day, the experts predicted. Then most of the snow would be gone.

But until then, he needed sleep.

She felt him shift, stretching his right leg. His hand touched her shoulder as if reassuring himself that she was there.

Sleep, love, she thought. No waking yet.

She found his left hand, curling her fingers against his. He woke long enough to open his eyes and look at her with a bleary expression. But like his little niece, Iri, he flopped his head back onto the pillow. He pulled her closer and settled, and his breathing immediately evened out again.

And she smiled. Simple comforts were sometimes just the best.

* * *

Nÿr returned to the infirmary just before mid-day. The mothers and newborns from the day before were doing well, though the mum with the breach lad was going to need several days of extra care and bedrest. But the early morning hours had brought six more laboring mothers to their doors and the delivery room was full to bursting.

With the senior physician's blessing, Nÿr had three trainees exploring the unused end of the delivery wing.

"We just want a recovery ward," she told them, opening a door and looking inside. "Someplace for the mums and newborns to rest for a day or two."

"This one could be cleaned up…maybe fit a dozen beds," one of the trainees said, walking in and looking around.

It just needed dusting and a good mop, Nÿr thought. "I agree," she said. "Let's clean this up. At least the mining hall mums can stay here…it would be unfair to send them off to the temporary quarters."

Work got underway. A cleaner's cart was rolled in, and everyone pitched in to wipe down, dust, mop, and sweep. When lads arrived with beds to install, Nÿr directed the placement, then scooted out to the hallway to get out of the way. Once there, she joined the younger trainees at a basin to wash the dust from her face, brushing off her healer blues with a laugh.

"I look more miner than healer, don't I?" They all did.

Curious, they kept checking rooms along the corridor. Most were simply supply rooms or wash closets.

Nÿr checked three rooms, found nothing to fit their needs, and then opened the next door. Before she looked inside, she gasped at the definite, odd tingle that buzzed in her hand.

She looked down. _Is this a mithril knob?_

What had she just done?

"I'm surprised you got that one open," one of the trainees said, poking her head into one of the other rooms. "One of the physicians said that one's been stuck tight for years."

_Mahal._

"Huh," Nÿr said. She tried to shrug it off, closing the door. "Just an odd tiny closet. Not useful right now." She moved on.

But when a load of linens arrived, fresh from the laundry, the younger trainees went off to make the newly installed beds. Nÿr waited for quiet moment when no one would see and stepped silently back to the door with the mithril knob, catching up an oil lamp from the wall sconce.

She opened the door and stepped inside.

She held up the lamp.

The room was not large and completely empty. There, on the floor, the lamplight reflected a mithril pattern. She caught her breath.

She bent to examine it. Lots of lines, but in essence, a simple geometric pattern…one of the patterns in Balin's scroll, in fact, much like a stylized Aulean rune for the letter Z: two x's, one above the other, but with many patterns and spurs worked in. The letter Z, the first letter of _zigrel_…magic. Part of the word _sanzigil_…mithril. Also in the Khuzdul words for _wizard_ and _hope_.

She looked around the rest of the room. She was at the narrow end of a rectangle, maybe large enough to fit one sick bed with room to walk around it. A few drawers and cabinet doors on the wall to the right of the door.

Was there a cabinet for a mithril staff?

She held the lamp up to look at them. There. Another mithril knob. She opened that door. Inside, resting in a delicate rack were two slender rods, maybe each as long as her arm. Like Fili's staff down in the King's Hall, they looked like pure mithril.

She didn't touch them. She let them be.

She closed the cabinet and took a last look around. The little room was a bit dusty, but otherwise clean. She noted empty lamp sconces…counted seven in the room, then ducked out, closing the door firmly behind her.

Out in the hall she could only stand a moment and blink, almost disbelieving that she'd just discovered a mithril spell.

Several trainee lads came around the corner with the breech mother on a rolling gurney. She was their first patient moving into the new room.

"Here," she stepped up, taking the corner of the gurney to be sure no one banged the lady's head. "Let's put her in the corner, out of the drafts."

And her time once again became filled with work that needed to be done. By evening, Erebor had five new lads and one little lass more added to its population.

When she got back to the Annex (careful NOT to make Kili come looking for her this time; his day was busy enough, she felt), she couldn't wait to talk to Dwalin.

At least he was dozing in a chair and not in bed. She scooted a table closer to him and spread out the old scroll.

His eyes fluttered open, his gaze sharp as ever.

"I found something in the infirmary," she said, unwinding the scroll. "Shut inside a tiny old room. It had a mithril knob. No one's opened it in years."

She rolled through the scroll, looking for the chart of the figure she'd seen.

Finding it, she patted it with the flat of her hand to show him. "This one. Whatever it is, it's in the infirmary. This is the section we need to translate."

But instead of looking at it, Dwalin looked only at her with soft, admiring eyes.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are when you're all fired up like this?"

"Stop it. I'm trying to save your life."

He smiled, though his face showed his tiredness. "And I love you for it, lassie."

* * *

Fili, King of Erebor, visiting in the Iron Hills, spent most of his day with Thorin Stonehelm. They toured everything from the weapons training arena to the smelter.

And Fili handed over quite an impressive contribution of pure gold in the form of ingots and coins, standing with Stonehelm to oversee the unloading from the simple ale cart he'd dragged all the way from the Mountain.

"The least we can do to help repay the Iron Hills for your help three years ago," he said.

Stonehelm looked pensive. "My father went to your aid willingly. He never regretted the defense of Erebor." But he reached out and gripped Fili's hand. It was a rare moment of genuine accord between them.

A wheel that had been well greased by the gift of gold, Fili knew.

"We only prosper because of your continued support," he said, meaning it. "Let's call this a profit-share on your investment."

They went inside then, to sample Hill Ale and talk of the new treaty, the new King, and new threat of the hidden ones in Khazad Dum.

"I'm not eager to march all that way just to repeat the Battle of Azanulbizar," Stonehelm admitted.

Fili shrugged. "I don't figure a repeat. But when the time comes, you need not go. The Iron Hills has done its fair share and then some." He did not reveal the one significant secret he had about Khazad Dum.

That Durin's Bane was dead and gone, vanquished by Gandalf the Grey.

"I expect," Fili said. "That any campaign against the Hidden Ones will have to coordinate with the Woodland Realm and Rohan, at the least, and probably Gondor…not to mention whoever's left in Lorien. It will be an alliance of more than Dwarves when we go back."

Stonehelm shook his head. "Better you than me, for that."

At least Stonehelm was aware of his shortcomings there, Fili agreed silently.

"You and your brother go," Stonehelm said, drinking deeply. "There's never been any defeating you if you're together."

Fili said nothing. Another secret. No. If he went, he would go alone. Would have to.

He decided it was time to change the subject.

He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small, flat, finely smithed ingot of bright-white silver and set it on the table.

Predictably, Stonehelm's eyes lit up, previous topic completely forgotten.

"Pure Moria mithril," Fili said. "Not the stuff we refine in Erebor." There was a difference, at least to the metalsmiths. Erebor mithril was useful, but there were subtle differences in the properties and the uses. Moria mithril was the more valuable, more rare metal, and it was only found in Khazad Dum. Fili had a stash in the vaults. Not a large stash, but it was far more than anyone thought they had.

"Is this a gift?" Stonehelm breathed.

"It's a bribe, lad." Fili didn't see any reason to beat around the bush.

"For what?" Stonehelm's tone was all sharpness now.

"A lassie. Born here but to an Erebor father. With the war, the whole marriage thing slipped their minds." He let silence grow between them. "Her mother's dead now. We want her back with her father and I want your word not to interfere." He riveted his attention on Stonehelm.

Stonehelm met his gaze. "This is a very high price for the life of one lassie."

Fili shrugged. "Her father is one of our best. I just want to do right by him. And it helps even our debt, I hope. And I'm not buying _her_...I'm buying your promise to leave be."

Stonehelm sat up, his jaw thrust forward, affronted. "Outrageous," he grumbled. "You'd attach strings even as you repay a debt?"

Fili smiled, refusing to rise to the bait. "I could provide this amount in plain gold, if you prefer. Without the strings." He moved his hand to take the Moria mithril back.

Stonehelm caught his hand with a small laugh. "Not that I'm unwilling to strike an agreement with you, cousin."

They locked eyes, then slowly smiled at each other.

"One ingot, one lass. That's the bargain," Fili said. "Take the mithril and the lass goes with me." He held out his hand to seal the deal.

Stonehelm laughed out loud. "I do not know what you're up to on this one, Fili my lord. But you can have fifty Hill lasses if you want 'em."

"Fifty?" Fili raised his eyebrows. "You drive a fair bargain, cousin. Deal."

They shook hands and then Stonehelm slapped his down on the mithril and the bar vanished.

Fili smiled, pleased to know that his way was clear.

But when he met his Lady Wife for the evening meal with her family, she had more reports of dead ends and leads that didn't pan out.

They were up late, and even Hannar was sound asleep by the time they turned in for bed.

"Stonehelm took your bait?" An asked as they settled in, exhausted.

"Sure did." Fili answered. "In fact he sweetened the deal." He explained the joke about the fifty lasses.

"You're not serious," An said, though clearly her tone was dubious.

"I am. I plan on a long chat with your friend Nama. She wants a job training lasses again, I'll give her one."

An reached over to grab his hand.

He squeezed it back.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

"I am an idiot," Fili said out loud. It was just now sunrise and he was laying on his back, head on a pillow, next to his lady wife.

An rolled over to look at him, barely able to suppress a smile. Obviously, she agreed with him, especially at this hour.

"We're not going to find that child working in the laundry or the kitchens," he said. "She's not sitting in some back room learning to be a homemaker and tend babies, either."

"Says the dwarf who spoils his own babies rotten?"

"I'm serious," he sat up. "That lass is warrior born. She's been itching to get her hands on a blade since the day she turned twenty, just like Fjalar."

"Stonehelm's not training lasses anymore."

"Do you think that would stop Dwalin's daughter? Hazar's child? Would that kind of edict ever stop Iri if there was something she really wanted?"

An rubbed her eyes. "What are you getting at?"

He threw the covers off, generating a squeak from her at the rush of cold air.

"Where are you going," she asked. "Completely undressed?"

"I'm paying a visit to Stonehelm's cadets." He grabbed clothes and headed off to the bath. "And I'm taking a raven with me!"

* * *

Kili spent his morning touring the damage. The three lower levels of the sapphire mine were underwater. He stood side by side with Bofur and the Master Miner, surveying a hall-sized cavern, now a hall-sized lake.

"At least everyone's accounted for," the Master said.

"Mahal's luck that no one drowned," Kili murmured. The passages between levels were twisty and terrible places to get caught in a flood.

"It'll drain on its own, given time," Bofur told him, looking sadly at the soupy mess. "Four to five weeks, if you ask me."

"It going to leave a pile of debris," Kili said. "But there's no real harm to the rock, is there?"

"Not really," the master miner agreed. "Working faces will have to be cleaned. A few stones will be unusable. The real damage is the stop in production."

Kili put a hand on the master's shoulder. "But we live to fight another day," he said, using the warrior's phrase. "The lives of our miners are far more valuable than than a few stones." He leveled a look at the Master, who sighed and nodded.

"And look on the bright side," Bofur smiled. "The price of your sapphires just tripled."

The Master Miner looked appalled at the blatant accounting perspective, then raised an eyebrow.

Kili laughed. "Merchant," he teased Bofur.

He and Bofur went on to look at the evacuated family level. Water still ran like a swift stream through the main passages, but only about a foot deep. A high-water mark showed it had peaked four to five feet up the walls. Another place that would need to drain on its own.

"I know the miners like being close to their work, but shouldn't we move the living quarters higher up?" Kili asked. He knew the council would ask about it once they met again.

Bofur looked thoughtful. "It's possible. An offer it and see who would go." But he shook his head. "Most of them won't take you up on it, I don't think. Water in a mine is a fact of mining," he said. "If we have to head for high ground once every fifty years…?" He shrugged.

From there they visited the upper halls where the mining families had relocated. There were questions, but for the most part the families knew there was nothing for it but to wait for the water to recede. When one old timer lamented the lack of his favorite ale and enough pipeweed, Kili was glad to find a problem he could do something about.

"I can fix that," he said firmly, scrawling a note on his slate. "You'll have it before the fourth bell."

With that, he put the ale and pipeweed order in motion and left them to Bofur, who understood the mining people best. Kili knew his old friend wouldn't be shy about asking for anything they needed.

* * *

By the afternoon, Kili had changed into loose sparring clothes and joined Skirfir in the cadet's training arena.

"Thanks for all your help during the evacuations," he smiled. "You showed willing hearts to help our people, which is what it takes to keep Erebor safe and protected." He made a bow to his cadet crew and they ducked heads and shuffled feet.

Skirfir rolled his eyes. "Here's how we acknowledge a compliment from our commander," he said, inclining his head, hand on heart. "Give it a shot, lads."

There was much uncoordinated bobbing, use of left and right hands, and _hunching_. Skirfir rolled his eyes again and proceeded with the more thorough training.

"Everybody hold up your right hand," he held his up, back to the lads so they would mimic him. He looked over his shoulder to check how many had it correct.

Kili stood patiently, suppressing a grin. He well remembered getting this same lesson from none other than old Dwalin. Only it had come with a few slaps to the back of his head. Maybe he'd just been that thick-skulled. To be fair, he'd been five years younger than this group. Still, he could almost feel the sting of it.

Once the lads had all sorted their left from right, Skirfir explained the rest, from correct arm angle to timing, and finally, they managed reasonably correct, properly timed, straight-backed bows.

"Good lads," Kili smiled.

They took the queue and head-bowed in unison, hands on hearts and Kili retured the gesture.

"That's a good lesson to learn as we're starting arena fighting today. When you first enter the arena, you will face your opponent," he faced Skirfir to demonstrate. "And bow to each other, hand on heart." He and Skirfir did so. "When you complete your practice, finish with the same gesture."

Kili flipped a thick bladed knife to Skirfir, who caught it by the handle.

"The first lessons are about disarming an opponent with a blade. You're trainees, but we will not be pulling punches. That said, these are weighted felt blades so there's no chance of stabbing anyone. We'll practice with the real blades later."

"We will be teaching you a technique we call _tashfat azgar_, or fast battle fighting. If you find yourself up against goblins, it will most likely be a running fight and they will come at you from all directions far more quickly than you think possible."

"The goal of the first lesson is to simply disarm and get past them. These moves look very simple, but I want your attention on the details. If you can master the exact angles and movements required here, then you're ready to advance to other weapons. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir!" they said, eyes riveted.

"Here's the first one. My goal is to disarm your lieutenant and run past as fast as I can, because the real fight is over there," he pointed away. "And I can't let myself get stopped here." Here pointed to the floor.

Skirfir and Kili approached the practice ring, bowed to each other, then stood back.

Then, faster than the lads could believe, Kili ran straight at Skirf, who held the knife in attack position. There was a very fast swipe, a loud smack, the knife arrowed to the ground. Skirfir went down nose first, and Kili was past, all without losing his speed.

They blinked.

"Again. Watch close to see what I did," Kili said, and he took up position again, going through the sequence more slowly. He repeated, broke it down into steps, and explained the angles.

He had them practicing that move and several others for the better part of the afternoon.

At one point, he watched Fjalar facing Mieth. "Would you rather Climb the Mountain now?" Fjalar mock-taunted, charging Mieth and smacking the practice knife away.

But wiley Mieth kicked out and tripped him. They both ended up on the floor.

Kili watched Skirfir coach the pair. "You went at him too slow—gave him time to do that," Skirfir handed Fjalar up, then Mieth. "Do it again, Fjalar, but speed is your ally. Remember seeing that fight out on the western slope? Remember how fast it was?"

Fjalar nodded. Mieth's eyes went wide.

_The lad will be hounded to tell that story tonight_, Kili thought, resigned to the fact that the class had, by now, figured out that the sunny-haired lad was their prince. That they all played along with his incognito status told Kili he'd picked the right classmates.

Skirfir had Fjalar back in position, telling him to put some muscle into his charge. This time the lad was wicked fast, smacked the knife down and was away before Mieth hit the ground.

"Mahal's balls," he heard Mieth say, rolling to his back. "You hit me hard!"

Fjalar's grin couldn't have been wider.

Kili nodded at Fjalar, winked at Skirfir, and moved on. The young lieutenant was doing well. Fjalar was learning. And Mieth was about to get his chance to strike back.

They ended the afternoon when twenty-eight of Skirfir's old cadet mates came in for a demonstration.

"This is your graduation exercise from first level _tashfat azgar_," Kili told them. "By the time you are ready, you will all know well over twenty moves. All of them are fair game in the exercise. The fight will pit fifteen of you against fifteen of them and the goal is to get everyone across that line," he pointed to a red stripe near the far wall. "And it will be timed. So disarm and move on. We'll run through it more than once. Ready?"

Half the newcomers stood randomly spaced apart with Kili on the left, unarmed, and the other half stood with Skirfir, wielding a variety of big knives—shiny real blades, sharp and deadly.

"Du bekar!" Kili yelled, roaring to gather his focus, and they were off. His lads charged through the mass of mock opponents, leaving blades and goblins on the floor. All them pounded across the line in less than a minute.

Kili looked back at his lads, standing with their mouths open.

Priceless, he thought. Now to get them doing it on their own.

* * *

It was a little bit like luring Hannar to sleep, Fili reflected. Just be calm and the quarry might come to his hand. So he was making an effort to simply be pleasant and relaxed as he walked along with the cadet master, a little raven balancing on his shoulder.

A small group of Erebor ravens had followed him to the Iron Hills and they lingered in the woods. He'd found the hen Kaia out this morning, willing to come along at the promise of a few walnuts. She rode his shoulder quietly, bobbing as she kept her balance.

Fili listened to the cadet master, silently disagreeing with his training methods and casually scanning the faces of the Iron Hills trainees. Which one was really a lass?

_At this age, it's honestly hard to tell,_ he realized. Awkward adolescents, every one. Wild hair, scraggy jawline fuzz. Still a little bit innocent dwarrow-child but with the first signs of that fiery eagerness to prove themselves.

Fili loved the dwarrow-child phase. It was Kili who was better suited to handle the fiery, eager, awkward youth part.

He thought of his first-born, of Fjalar. He loved his son completely, but the lad was growing up. He was proud of the dwarf his heir was becoming, he just couldn't be the one to hone the lad's abilities. When he looked at his son, he still felt the way he did when he'd first held him as a tiny newborn. Besotted. He had trouble reconciling that with the sullen, snarky adolescent who'd recently become an irritable handful for his mother. Best that he was off to the trainees with Kili's eye on him until he was past his surly phase.

He wondered how Kili was going to handle fatherhood. Would he spoil his babies silly and turn them over to Fili for training? Fili hoped not. He hoped the pattern they'd fallen into would hold true. He wanted to spoil his brother's babies and not let Kili have them until they got that yearning for arms and experience. Fili firmly preferred the little innocent charmers.

And he was certain that any child of Nÿr and Kili would be able to charm anyone to Mahal's gate and back.

He tried to imagine Fjalar in a few more weeks, ready to leave training and join the cadet company in earnest. He hoped to return home and see in him what he usually noticed in the other trainee candidates: that first blush of seriousness...trying so hard to embody honor, courage, and a willing heart.

Then the raven on his shoulder rattled softly, ruffling her feathers.

"Lassie lad," she muttered. "Lassie lad."

Fili raised an eyebrow. Ravens did always pick names according to their own, unique bird logic.

"Like Hen-hen. Daugher of Durin. Has an axe."

Fili looked at all the cadets in the line. Several had axes.

But only one of them could understand what the bird was saying, and his...or her...eyes were very wide, her expression a mix of disbelief and confusion. Then she turned her focus back to the arms master.

Fili noted the lass, but ignored her. Tall for the age, long legs and square shoulders, black-brown hair.

Beka, Daughter of Durin, training with the lads because she wasn't about to let anyone hold her back from it.

"Good bird, Kaia." He fed the raven a plump, prime walnut from his pocket. Easily distracted, Kaia took the nut and flew off.

But Fili didn't mind.

His quarry was found.

Now he just had to bring her along without scaring her off.

* * *

**Note: my reference for Kili's training exercise is Krav Maga Training: the Fastest Knife Disarm on youtube, produced in Italy. In case you want to see it...2 minutes, maybe. Google it (ff doesn't allow links in the text, for no-spam reasons.) Krav Maga looks very dwarfy to me...so there it is.

Welcome to the new readers who've recently started following! I genuinely appreciate everyone who's liked, favorited, followed and reviewed! Drop me a note in the reviews or PM...all feedback welcome, even if you're just joining the story! Don't be shy!

And my last stories have wrapped at about 18 chapters. I think we're in the winding up phase! Mahal's blessings to you!

Not sure how much I'll post between now and the weekend, as the work week will be busy. But definitely the next update in 3-4 days.**


	15. Chapter 15

****Short midweek chapter setting us up for the endgame...hope the end of your week is going well! I've noticed new followers every day, so please don't be shy about dropping a quick note in the reviews, whether you've been following from the start or just started. It really does help me to see what you guys have to say. Mahal's Blessing! More chapters planned for the weekend...! Thanks so much for your support. Summer ****

Chapter Fifteen

Lady Nÿr, healer trainee, was used to study and research.

What she wasn't used to was decoding ancient Dwarvish, and she had a whole scroll of it in front of her.

"We need someone to help with this." Dwalin shook his head and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Someone who can translate?"

"Boring and persnickety work…" Dwalin grumbled. "Balin was the one who had the patience for this kind of thing. Ask the lads. He could spend hours at it. I'll more likely shred the thing after five minutes."

Nÿr believed him. "I don't think I actually know anyone who could read this. The senior herbalist maybe…he knows botanical terms…"

"Nah, nah. You need a real expert." Dwalin rubbed his forehead. "Balin had a helper. An apprentice." He looked like he was trying to recall something.

"Still in Erebor?"

"Works for the archivist. The lass's name…" Dwalin's eyes closed. "Tova," he said.

Nÿr felt a quick thrill. "Can we trust her with this? This isn't the sort of thing just anyone should be reading."

Dwalin nodded. "Agreed. But she worked alongside my brother for years. Even worked with him on decoding the particulars of that circle down in the King's Hall. She was there when we were all trying our hands at it. Fili included."

"So Fili knows her? Trusts her?"

"Oh, aye."

Nÿr crossed the room, getting her shawl off the hook and throwing it around her shoulders. "And he won't object to her help?"

Dwalin smiled, a hint of wicked gleam in his eye. "Tell him it was my idea." He shrugged.

"Well," Nÿr said. "It so happens I delivered the archivist's grandson a while back. I think I have a good excuse to pay a social call." She felt Dwalin's forehead, then tucked the blanket around his legs and squeezed his arm. "In the meantime, rest. And no harassing Svi."

* * *

Fili, King of Erebor visiting in the Iron Hills, heard the Hill Guards' call go up and locked eyes with his own guard captain.

"Message rider…in from Dale," the captain guessed.

They had been quietly checking and readying the family's travel wagon, but they left off and headed for the compound's gate. Any rider from Dale would have news from Erebor.

The rider, a Dale man whom Fili recognized, looked exhausted. The hill folk, unused to Dale's long legged runners, stood back from the big horse. At a nod, Fili's guard captain took charge of the sweaty animal and coaxed it away to walk and cool down.

"Here, lad," Fili helped the Dale man to a bench.

"From your lord brother," the rider slid a leather case off his shoulder, much like a small quiver, tooled with Kili's sigil. Fili accepted it, but relaxed. There was a code between them that had to do with how such cases were sealed. This one was buckled plain and simple, which meant it contained something Kili felt was interesting but it certainly didn't tell of war.

Fili's lady wife An appeared then, offering a mug to the rider along with a cone of honey cake. The lad accepted both gratefully. He needed the sugar, Fili guessed.

"Does this require a quick reply?" he asked the man.

The courier, mouth full, shook his head. "But I'll ride out again tomorrow," he managed.

Fili nodded. "Get yourself off for a real meal and bed. My Guards will see to your horse. My thanks, lad."

The rider made a bow and staggered off with An. Fili wondered for a moment how many days the messenger horses took…fewer than five…but how many fewer? He made a note to discuss this with Young Bard and with Stonehelm. He had an idea for a messenger relay system…with outposts along the way so the horse and rider could rest but the message could move along.

Fili unbuckled the case, recognizing Kili's firm letters on the page that he opened.

His brother's hand. He found it comforting, actually, and it made him smile. Used to guard reports more than diplomacy, Kili's writing was always clipped, full of abbreviations, and to the point. His letters were neater than Fili's own scrawl, but tended to be bold and choppy, much like swordstrokes. Old Balin had despaired of ever teaching either of them to write with refinement.

_F._

_Visit from Gimli w/Leg Grnlf day of your dep. Rpt. Gdlf, Elrd and Gldrl took ship west w/Bilbo and Frodo. Sept. last year. Elf now w/Th'l. Gimli in Dale. Lots of q's about your w'abouts, not discussed._

_Enclosed pls find msg from Gndr addr to you._

_Unseasonably warm. V. busy._

He stared at it, blinking. Gandalf and Bilbo…! Fili set the letter down and looked up, trying to sort that in his head. He felt like someone had just smacked him on the skull. Gandalf…? Gone? He couldn't imagine it. No. Wouldn't the old wizard simply show up unannounced, just like he always did? Fili had to re-read the note.

And then he was unaccountably recalling Thorin and the sudden feeling in his gut echoed that hollowness from those first, grief stricken days after their uncle's death. The disbelief of it mixed with the reality that everyone was at now at his door with their questions and needs.

As if he could ever replace his uncle.

And Gandalf's calm words. _It is to you that your people look for hope, Fili. You have your uncle's will to fight, but there is in you much of your Lady mother. Draw upon her compassion and her care for her people, and you will be a King of Kings in Erebor._

Fili blinked back tears. To think he would never hear that faith or that wise, comforting voice again.

He breathed deep to cut that line of thought.

And Bilbo…well, the hobbit was on in years, especially for his kind, no doubt. Fili had always hoped they'd see Bilbo again. Host him for a nice long visit to Erebor. Bilbo had written of his desire to return…but the road wasn't safe. Secretly, Fili didn't think Bilbo could take it…being so close to Thorin's resting place.

He looked at the words on the paper again. _Enclosed pls find msg from Gndr addr to you. _ Fili tilted the courier's case and looked inside, then extracted a crisp, formal parchment envelope addressed in a strong elegant hand.

He recognized this now as the hand of King Elessar.

He carefully broke the seal and read quickly. His letter to Elrond had been delivered, because of Elrond's passing, to his daughter, Queen Arwen Evenstar, Queen of Gondor.

Fili had never met her.

And suddenly felt unaccountably embarrassed that the questions he'd posed to Elrond about Kili's curse had come to bother the new Queen. He hadn't meant for that. He spent a moment not knowing whether to be honored that the Lady bothered to post a reply…or irked that the letter hadn't simply been returned.

But Fili schooled his reaction. Matter of state, he told himself, that a letter from the King of Erebor would be addressed rather than returned.

But he didn't expect to see the words that were written there.

The king and his queen would be visiting. Midsummer. Dale. _…so as to honor the sanctity of the Mountain for Durin's line. All honor to your family and your people…_

_Mahal. _State visit for midsummer… That was going to send An into a fit—though it said Dale, not Erebor.

Same difference, really.

And then he looked back at Kili's words. As if finally seeing it, the last part made his heart sink. _Unseasonably warm. _Kili had spelled out in full instead of abbreviating it.

_Mahal's hammer._ He should have realized.

An was back. "Anything wrong?"

Fili rolled the missive and stuffed it back in the case. "Gimli came visiting."

"And…?"

Fili looked at her. "They're having snowmelt."

An's eyes widened. "We need to head home," she said.

Fili nodded. "But not until we have what we came for. Find Nama for me, would you?"

An nodded.

Fili rose to find the dining hall and the Dale messenger. He wanted details about the conditions around Erebor…particularly about the water levels at the Gate.

* * *

It didn't take long to find Balin's apprentice, now Senior Assistant Archivist, Tova. Neither did it take much to pique her interest in an old scroll or in Dwalin.

"I warn you, he's not well and he's much more irascible than usual," Nÿr said as she brought the older lass up to the annex. "He's not likely to do much other than doze off."

Yet Tova and Dwalin had greeted each other like old friends, and true to her calling, Tova was instantly fascinated with the old scroll and with Balin's notes, and true to his boredom with it, Dwalin was instantly asleep.

"This is about other locations around Erebor like the Circle of _Ahyrunu_ …" Tova breathed.

"Yes," Nÿr confirmed. "Can we rely on your discretion, Tova?"

"As always, my Lady. At your service." She inclined her head, hand on heart.

Nÿr nodded and returned the gesture.

And then one of the chamberlains was there, bowing. "A messenger at the door: A Lieutenant Skirfir is requesting your assistance, My Lady. A head injury in the cadet's training arena."

Nÿr saw that Dwalin was wide awake at this news and they locked eyes. Both of them knew it must involve Fjalar or Skirfir wouldn't have asked for her.

Or Kili.

Mahal, no.

"I'm on my way," she said, grabbing her healer's satchel.


	16. Chapter 16

****Let me know what you think! Huge thanks as always...mahal's blessings to all of you. Appreciate your support!****

Chapter Sixteen

Lady Nÿr, healer trainee, rushed through Erebor's central hub, heading for the cadet training arena. Someone had a head injury, and it could very well be the young prince Fjalar or Skirfir wouldn't have sent for her specifically.

Or Kili.

But no, she told herself. Kili was out on Ravenhill this morning, sending Erebor's winged friends off to check the roads and trails around the mountain, listening to their reports and deciding what was interesting.

_Can't be Kili_, she decided, but she still worried about it all the same.

She reached the stairway up to the training center, jogged up, and arrived to find a crowd of lads huddled around someone on the exercise mats.

They made way for her, revealing a chubby young cadet flat out on the floor…and a very guilty looking Fjalar.

Ah. Well, the lad did pack a punch.

Skirfir held an arm out, making room for her to work. "Nÿr. Thank Mahal. This is Mieth…He's out cold." Skirfir looked worried. "We didn't want to move him. Thought you were closer than the lads from the infirmary."

And more discreet? Nÿr nodded at her friend and went to the lad's side, reaching for his wrist and checking his pulse. Not alarming. And the poor lad was breathing evenly.

"How did it happen?" She looked at Skirfir, then Fjalar while she worked to loosen the lad's shirt.

"I missed," Fjalar admitted, his voice quiet. "Went for his shoulder, got him on his ear instead." The lad looked bleak.

"With your hand or with a weapon?" Nÿr pushed the lad's hair back to check his ear but saw nothing unusual. No blood. No bruise.

"My foot," Fjalar made a small side kick motion.

Nÿr nodded in understanding of what must have been a powerful strike.

"Well, I for one appreciate your kicking strength, lad. Made you pretty handy in a goblin fight once, if I recall." She smiled at him, hoping that she'd applied the right cure for mending what she diagnosed as a partially shattered ego. "That and your ability to slice clean through a goblin thigh."

Fjalar made a _like I had a choice_ face, but the lads around him were exchanging impressed glances.

_There's that problem solved, _she thought, as she went through the usual checks on poor Mieth. She made a careful exam feeling the vertebrae in his neck, and she lifted his eyelids to see his pupils responding to light. Finally, she smiled reassurance at Skirfir.

"Just knocked a good one," she said to the group. "But it's always best to call a healer in for a check. Nothing's broken." She pulled her satchel close and opened it.

"Dwarves are quite sturdy and have particularly strong necks," she told them. "But let me warn you that if this were a wounded Dale man, we would have to be far more careful—their necks are quite fragile and moving a Man with a neck injury can cause great damage: paralyze or even kill him."

She opened a compartment in her bag and found a packet. "The technique I'm about to use on Mieth here works well on dwarves in this situation, but I would not do it for a man in the same spot." She looked at them to be sure they understood. "Since we sometimes fight closely with the Dale men, you need to be aware of this. You can staunch their bleeding, make sure they're breathing, but always best to leave a Man with a neck injury to his own healers."

"But," she smiled at them. "A fine sturdy dwarf lad like Mieth here just needs a bit of help to get back on his feet." She slipped a small pod from the packet of waxed paper. She always had a few of these handy.

"Here we go," she said calmly, showing them. Then she held the pod under the poor Mieth's nose, breaking it open with a small crack.

Mieth's eyes popped open like he'd been jolted, and everyone else stepped back at the sudden sharp, bitter odor. The lad struggled to sit up in an automatic reaction to the overwhelming smell. She was glad to see him bat her hand away and make a face.

The lads were all round-eyed in surprise. Even Skirfir looked a bit taken aback, nose wrinkling.

"It's just a Skunk Pod," she told them, trying not to laugh. "I should give you a few," she looked at Skirfir. "If this won't bring lads around, they're truly in a bad way." She grabbed a small glass vial, dropped the broken pod inside, and capped it.

The sharp smell vanished and everyone breathed sighs of relief. Nÿr unrolled a cloth to wipe her hands.

Mieth just sat and blinked, and Fjalar went to his knees, grabbing his friend's hand. "You're all right, Mieth?"

"Mahal," the lad breathed, taking in the sight of everyone crowding around. He looked sheepishly at Fjalar, as if embarrassed by the attention.

"How many fingers?" Nÿr asked, holding up three.

Mieth stared at her, not even looking at her fingers. He was gaping at her.

"Just answer," Fjalar said, sounding exasperated. "She's not gonna bite..."

Nÿr smiled. "It's just counting. No arithmetic involved, I promise." She tried humor to soften the lad's embarrassment.

Mieth swallowed and finally looked at her hand. "Three."

"Very good. Now follow my fingers with your eyes," she moved them left and right, up and down. He passed the test easily.

"No serious damage done," she announced. "On your feet, lad."

Fjalar helped him up.

"But no more battle practice for the rest of the day. I'll come by and check on you later. If you develop a raging headache or start throwing up," she looked at Skirfir. "I expect your mates to get you straight to the infirmary. Otherwise, just take it easy. You'll be back at it tomorrow."

Fjalar was nodding, looking both relieved and determined to enforce the rest order.

Nÿr looked down to close her satchel, suppressing a grin, and was honored when she saw Skirfir making a formal offer of his hand to help her stand.

She didn't really need help up, but she understood the gesture demonstrated to the lads how to show respect to a lady…their Commander's intended, in fact. Lady An had cautioned her to expect these kinds of gestures and to always honor them with kind grace.

She took his hand and stood. "My thanks, Lieutenant," she inclined her head politely.

Fjalar and one of the other lads braced Mieth and headed for the benches. Mieth looked a little bit proud to have the status of _wounded in battle._

"Walk out with me?" she asked Skirf.

He checked the lads and nodded.

"I think it it's just a hard knock on the head," she said, as they walked. But she briefly described a set of dangerous symptoms to watch for. "It can happen that they look fine, then just collapse. So keep an eye."

Skirfir nodded. "Lad packs a real punch," Skirfir said, meaning Fjalar. "He's got a kick like a warhammer. Maybe I need to round up some tough old warriors for him to spar against."

Nÿr laughed. "You've got a legend in the making there," she said.

Skirfir winked and bowed to her at the door.

* * *

"We have a problem." Nama, former Iron Hills bodyguard, looked worried when she arrived at the guest quarters.

Fili raised his eyebrows. "Of course we do. It's turning out to be that kind of day."

"It's Hjarni, Beka's foster brother. He's on his way."

"Here?"

"He's caught wind that you're looking for the lass." Nama's expression showed her frustration. "I thought we were being discreet in our inquiries…but obviously someone's said too much and someone else has passed it on." She looked apologetic now. "I'm afraid he's bent on making trouble. He's got a real mean streak, especially when he drinks."

Fili smiled. "Trouble." He snorted. "Makes life interesting."

But Nama still looked alarmed. "What if he already has her? What if he sneaks her away?"

"I agree, that would be inconvenient," Fili said. "But I think we're a step ahead of him."

Nama gasped. "You found her?"

Fili nodded. "But we need a plan." He told her what he knew.

"Best news I've heard all year, that's a fact. And I can offer a bit of luck," she said. "I've been friends with the trainee master for years. I think we can start with him."

With that, Fili motioned for her to lead on. Nama started to object, then seemed to realize there were no longer any personal things in the guest quarters.

"They've left already?"

Fili grinned. "No, but we've packed the wagons. An's got the kids with her parents for now. I expect to head out quickly as soon as we have our girl, however."

Nama's expression was wistful. "I hope we can say goodbye..."

"I was thinking you might not need to," Fili said opening the door and heading out. She followed.

Fili explained the trade he'd made with his cousin, Stonehelm. One ingot of mithril in exchange for his promise not to interfere. And then the joke about fifty lasses instead of just the one. "I'm taking him at his word," Fili said. "Fifty. I've got lasses to train if you want to come back to Erebor with us. One in particular might need your help, I'm guessing."

Nama stopped in her tracks. "Leave the hills?" she whispered.

Fili stopped, nodding. He faced her. "Only if you want. I realize you might have fam…" But he didn't get a chance to finish. The hardy old lass had grabbed his hand and pressed her forehead to it.

"Mahal's blessing, lad," she whispered.

Fili blinked, then realized how unhappy the veteran warrior must be, having devoted her life to her King, only to have his misguided whelp strip her of her duty and station.

It was poorly done, in Fili's opinion. He hoped Stonehelm would learn from it.

And because it was his nature, Fili pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, warrior to warrior. "I take it you're accepting my offer?"

He felt her nod and realized she was teary.

"Ah, dry your eyes, lass," he smiled and let her go, giving her a light smack on the bicep. "The rest of the day should be pretty fun, especially if you're helping me out."

* * *

Nama's old friend Jallgrím the trainee master looked at them with such an expression of relief when he heard their proposal that Fili raised his eyebrows.

"There's three lassies in this class," he told them in a quiet voice. "Gets harder to keep them hidden every day. Be the best favor for me if you'd up and take all three with you. They'd be safer and I'd keep my job longer."

Fili was slightly surprised to learn this. He would have expected Stonehelm's captains to be following his orders a bit more explicitly.

That they were not was a telling bit of news. He had no doubt that Stonehelm would soon hit a brick wall with his policies and a change of direction might be in his future.

But a ruckus out on the training ground had them all running for the source of the noise before he could say it aloud.

"Hjarni," Nama muttered.

Sure enough, a small crowd had accompanied Hjarni into the training arena, and Fili identified him as the sloppy, dun haired miner who had Beka by the collar, trying to drag her away from her fellow trainees.

"This one's a lassie!" He shouted back at them. "Pulling a fast one on all of you!"

The trainees looked confused, but the rabble of a crowd was eating it up. Before any of them could react, Nama darted forward, intervening before the half-drunk slob could strip the girl's shirt off. She broke his grip and pulled the lass away, putting ten feet of space between them.

Fili got himself in front of her, facing Hjarni with his best Fili-the-stubborn glower.

"What's she to you?" he asked. "You're not even blood kin…she was your mother's foster-daughter."

"She's my property!" Hjarni objected looking from Nama to Fili. "Bound for a marriage contract. So all this nonsense comes to halt now."

He tried to reach for her, but Fili didn't move, blocking the other dwarf's way. Hjarni's grab fell short.

And that's when he thought his sword would help him out. He pointed it at Erebor's King to audible gasps.

Fili didn't even blink. He didn't even draw any of his own hidden blades in defense.

He didn't need to.

Fili calmly executed two hand motions and Hjarni's blade was smacked away, leaving him shaking his hand and scowling in disbelief.

"My baby daughter holds a sword with a better grip," Fili chided, amused disgust on his face.

"I'll bet she does, at that," said a new voice. Thorin Stonehelm, King of the Iron Hills strode forward, scooping up the sword and eyeing the drunken miner. Hjarni the miner had the good sense to back up and say nothing.

"This your lass, cousin?" Stonehelm nodded toward Beka as he tossed the sword to one of his guard for safekeeping. "Or lad?" He looked confused but his tone was amiable.

An ingot's worth of mithril amiable, Fili noted. "Aye. Lass," he affirmed calmly as if this were a casual matter of little import. "She is at that."

"Just the one?"

Fili smiled but his eyes were steely. "Nah. Wouldn't take one over fifty though, no worries."

Stonehelm eyed the little crowd of Iron Hills folk, then shrugged. "On with you," he said, shooing them off, Hjarni included. One of his guard pushed the miner along.

Things became much quieter.

"Let me go!" came a lassie's voice.

Fili turned to see Nama trying to keep a protective arm around Dwalin's daughter.

"Lass, the King here knows your own true father," Nama was trying to calm her. "You are his own kin. He can take you from all this. He can take all of us."

Beka froze, as if unable to understand. Nama made soothing sushes.

"Whose daughter?" Stonehelm asked Fili, his voice not quite a challenge.

Fili faced him, his smile gone, his expression stone. He stood a good two inches taller than his ruddier cousin.

"Dwalin's."

Stonehelm said nothing at first. He knew Dwalin. Respected him greatly. Then Fili saw his cousin's slow brain making the real connection. "A Daughter of Durin…born to the Iron Hills."

Fili nodded. "To a Lord of Erebor. And your Royal Promise to leave be."

"No wonder you brought me mithril, cousin," he said quietly. "Had I known, I would not have let her go."

Fili waited, noting that Stonehelm wasn't proposing a re-negotiation or a return of the ingot, either.

They regarded each other.

"Fifty," Stonehelm said. "Not one more."

Fili inclined his head, hand on heart.

After a moment, Stonehelm did the same. Then he turned on his heel and led his guards away.

Behind him, he heard Nama trying to calm the frightened lass.

"He came all this way just for you, child. To take you to your own father. And they train lassies in Erebor. Right out in the open."

Fili turned to them, staying a few feet back and speaking quietly. He tried to make eye contact, but the lass shied away. "We're quite proud of our warrior lasses," he added. "We would welcome you for yourself, but also as your father's daughter and in honor of your warrior mother, Hazar."

There, a peek of blue eyes. Dwalin's daughter. She wasn't so much shy as simply untrusting.

"His name is Dwalin. I've known him all my life. He's an honorable dwarf, Beka. Erebor's best. He wants to meet you very much. "

She stood now, half behind Nama, assessing him.

"You want to train for battle," Fili shrugged. "He'll be your biggest champion." He smiled. "As your cousin, I offer you this choice." He inclined his head. "Lady Beka, we would be honored if you would like to train in Erebor with us and serve in our Guard with a willing heart, if that is your wish."

Beka looked disbelieving, then shook her head. "Not without my friends." She looked over her shoulder at the other trainees.

Fili raised an eyebrow. "Not a problem."

Beka shrugged Nama off then and half-stumbled to several of the others. The lads in the group backed away as if stung.

Leaving eleven trainees huddled with Beka.

"Eleven lasses?" Nama asked, her arms out to them as if trying to scoop them all up.

Poor Jallgrím paled visibly.

Fili himself was a bit surprised. Eleven was considerably more lasses-pretending-to-be-lads than anyone would have thought.

"Get them ready to ride," he warned Nama. "Before anyone here decides to change Stonehelm's mind."


	17. Chapter 17

****I think there's likely 3-4 more chapters before the end... Trying to keep them a bit shorter, hoping they're more readable that way. Let me know if you have an opinion about chapter length.**

**As always, huge thanks for everyone who's liked, favorited, followed, and commented! I truly appreciate your insight. So, let me know what you think-the thing about writing is the author sits alone in bunny slippers and doesn't get to see your reaction unless you drop a note. You're always welcome to PM me if you're shy or have something to say that you'd prefer to keep private.**

**Hope you enjoy!****

Chapter Seventeen.

Nÿr watched Kili stare at the little fire in their bedroom. It was well after midnight, and they would have to go soon.

He was avoiding eye contact, and he was doing it because he was upset. She recalled something Fili had said once…_he's fine right up until the moment that he isn't fine._

He wasn't fine. She understood that. The whole idea of what they were about to do crossed a line.

He'd objected when Dwalin and Tuva had first explained the translated scroll. The Ward of _Vustîn._ The healing room, with its dual rods of mithril and the workings of the mithril spell. It held the ability to heal a specific wound or condition. _Bone breaks, sword wounds, dysfunctions of the heart or liver, tumorous obstructions, et cetera._

"Tell me you're not playing with that," he'd said in a low voice.

Nÿr had replied as softly as she could. "We have to."

"Am I not enough of an example to both of you?" His words were louder. He was not angry, but Nÿr and Dwalin both recognized that he was unusually upset. "Didn't you understand about Frodo? That's the insidiousness of this magic…that we think it can do good when we try to use it. Even Fili…" he stopped and waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the King's Hall. "Can't really control that truth circle. How many criminals end up a pile of ash because he lets that magic influence his temper?"

"Only the ones who deserve it," Dwalin said.

Kili let out an exasperated breath. Nÿr didn't disagree with him, but then she had never seen Fili use the circle.

Dwalin had regarded him stoically. "If the tables were turned, lad, would you say no? We both know I'm not going to last much longer. I hate this damned condition…I will call this My Choice. My willing heart."

She had watched Kili and Dwalin face each other, two stubborn Sons of Durin.

Dwalin, surprisingly, had spoken softly then. "All those years ago," he said. "I watched you fight off a dozen orcs, climb that barrier, take a poisoned arrow, and still open the watergate. I had never been prouder of you, lad. You freed Thorin from captivity, freed all of us. Look me in the eye now, and tell me you wouldn't do it all over again, morgul wound and all."

Kili said nothing, but his face was solemn, his arms crossed, his glower intense.

He'd left them to their discussion and she'd found him in their room, sitting on the floor in front of the fire.

She'd knelt beside him, taking his hand. He'd pulled her close, clearly in need of her friendship and comfort. When they made love, it had been passionate…maybe even desperate. Intimate but without words, without playfulness.

"Is this any different than going into battle?" she asked in a quiet voice afterward, holding him close. "Going off to fight goblins and orcs…and who knows what other kind of beastly thing?"

He blinked, his mouth twitched. His voice was hoarse with emotion when he spoke. "Mithril spells are dangerous. They kill, Nÿr. No one really understands them. They're unforgiving and they're deadly."

"And…so are orcs and goblins."

He let out a small, frustrated sigh and turned to touch foreheads with her. One hand came up to stroke her cheek. He looked her in the eye now and she could see his deep, soul-wrenching fear of metal magic. She took hold of his hand and held it tight. She could not change that, no words would allay it. All she could do was kiss him with all the love in her heart.

"Are you saying that we let him die?"

He'd closed his eyes. "No," he'd whispered.

"So we give it a try?"

For a long minute he said nothing. Then, "For Dwalin…"

"Yes, love."

* * *

Despite being a somewhat unwilling partner, Kili's help was essential. Nÿr was glad they had his agreement to do it in the dead of night when Erebor was quiet and few would see them. It was not out of the ordinary for an oldtimer to be taken to the infirmary in the wee hours, after all. And the senior physicians, the ones who might stop or question Nÿr, preferred the day shifts.

It did take the combined efforts of Nÿr and Kili to get Dwalin there, however. They used the secret passage from the study to the statue of Jormund the Apothecary, with Kili supporting Dwalin almost completely as they made their way past the Halls of Learning to the infirmary.

Nÿr took them through the main entrance, nodding to the night shift trainees. As she had hoped, there were two other infirm dwarves at the intake desk, so it was an easy task to commandeer a gurney and slip Dwalin through. Kili looked like the typical loved one helping an oldtimer, and the trainees were glad to let Nÿr, a well known member of the staff, handle her own patient.

They rolled Dwalin first toward the main ward, and at a moment when no one would see, parked the gurney and helped Dwalin up. The three of them slipped through a side passage that came out close to the maternity ward, and after she checked the halls and signaled them to come along, they quietly made it to the unused end of the old wing, to a hallway lined with doors.

One of which had a mithril doorknob that would open only at the touch of those with Durin's blood in their veins.

"Would you like to do the honors?" she asked Dwalin.

They looked at each other, and Dwalin reached for the handle, eyebrows shooting up when he felt the unmistakable zing of mithril.

"I'd know that feeling anywhere, Lassie," he said, holding the door for her.

Kili looked miserable, hesitating before following her inside, hands in pockets.

Dwalin walked in on his own power.

The door closed behind them, and the three of them stood inside and stared. Nÿr had been down earlier, sweeping out the dust and installing seven oil lamps in the seven sconces. There was a wooden student's chair for Kili, who pushed it into the corner and sat with both the old scroll and Tuva's translated text on the little writing surface. He focused himself on re-reading her notes, rather pointedly ignoring the mithril.

According to the scroll, the patient was allowed no bed or stretcher…but needed to lie flat on the stone, unclothed, with a simple cloth for covering.

She watched Dwalin remove his boots and socks, then walk a circuit of the room barefooted, careful not to step on the mithril pattern. He touched the plain walls, bent to look closely at the pattern, then suddenly stood and looked at them.

"Let's just get on with it, then."

* * *

Fili, King of Erebor, was making a circuit of the camp and checking in with the nightwatch not long after midnight.

He was either crazy or brilliant, he wasn't sure. It was laughable, really: one king raiding the neighboring king's stronghold for a gaggle of lassies. He might never live it down.

On the other hand, Erebor had an abundance of unwed lads. How many lasses would be open to that option, there was no predicting. He hoped for a dozen, maybe. From that, Erebor's actual wealth: babies. He smiled.

Thankfully, An's brilliance in the ways of Hill diplomacy was probably saving his sorry backside.

Faced with leading what ended up being a total of seventeen young lassies (Beka's friends had sisters to bring along) and thirty-three former warrior lasses (now unemployed by Stonehelm), An had stepped up and taken control.

She styled it as an official Honor Program. The Queen's _Bâhînh,_ her friend-ladies. She was Hill folk herself, after all, and determined to foster relations between her birth home and her kingdom.

The upper echelon of Iron Hills society had instantly approved, making Erebor's royal couple out to be more cultural exchange philanthropists than kin-stealing pirates.

Stonehelm wasn't fooled. But, Fili reflected, he had his mithril ingot to keep him happy. He realized he might have to send another along once they made it home safely. Just to soothe any hard feelings.

But Lady An, Queen of Erebor, had in the course of one hour, turned the entire mess from bane to boon. She had also made it respectable by clearly stating, "no underage lasses without parental consent," and for the two younger sisters joining the group, obtained all-too-willing written permission. By early afternoon their way was clear, and they'd rolled the wagons for home, making it all the way to a warm spring lake for the first night's camp.

And evening escapades in the water turned eleven laddie-lasses into eleven young ladies that Fili hardly recognized.

It was their hair color, An said, laughing. "Didn't you notice they had all been using ash to dull the color?"

Fili had just stared.

And the one who'd changed most dramatically was Beka. Without its dull cover, her hair shone a beautiful light sable, and with her face clean, he could see the dusting of freckles across her nose.

"There's our young warrior," he'd smiled at her. She'd still ducked behind Nama, too cautious to actually speak to him, but at least she didn't look hostile. The lassie just needed time, he decided. And she could have it.

Iri, on the other hand, was thrilled to have so many new friends, and she shrieked her delight at him, racing across the campfire clearing to throw herself in his arms. She smelled of spring water and sunshine and it made him happy.

"I love you, Da!" she had declared. He held her tight and kissed her cheek and proudly declared his love in return.

"Nama says we can have arrow lessons tomorrow!"

"Can you?" he'd said. "Good thing you've been practicing, then. Do you know where your bow is?"

She had grinned and pointed to the family travel wagon.

An had winked at him. "Good job, love. You just showed them you're nothing like Stonehelm."

"Because I'm not," he'd said firmly.

"Beka will warm up to you before we get home," she'd predicted. "You watch."

When he finished his circuit of the camp guards, counted 50 sleeping forms around the campfire (the older lasses watching over the younger), he assured himself that all was as well as he could make it.

He took himself back to the family wagon and climbed quietly inside, stripping down to his long johns and checking his lads asleep in the upper bunk—Gunz and Hannar were snuggled against each other like puppies. He tucked the blanket around Hannar's rump, then gently slid Gunz's foot back under the covers. Then he eased into the wide bed next to An and Iri, suddenly feeling his exhaustion.

Four more days, and they'd be home.

And, Mahal willing, Dwalin would be well enough to meet his daughter when they got there.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Lady Nÿr, healer trainee, was about to try something no dwarf healer in living memory had even heard of.

She was about to invoke a healing spell inside Erebor: a mithril spell called The Ward of _Vustîn._

"I'm ready, lass."

Her patient was an aging warrior, tough, brave…and dying. The mass in his gut had grown and hardened, and he was greatly weakened. He had maybe only days before he succumbed.

And Dwalin, son of Fundin, was ever the fighter. He wasn't giving up.

He stood next to her, one hand on the wall for support, and looked at the ancient pattern in the floor. A simple, geometric figure in lines of pure mithril on green stone. The design looked much like the Aulean rune for the letter Z: two x's, one above the other, but with many crosshatches and spurs worked in. A border of plain stone tile surrounded the figure, maybe three feet wide. The entire room was no bigger than a sleeping chamber, rectangular, and its single door was locked by a mithril knob—the kind that only opened to the touch of those with Durin's blood in their veins.

They had the room, the mithril pattern, a translation of the Ancient Dwarvish instructions, and the patient.

What they didn't have was the experience to make it work.

"Read me the part about the positioning again?" Nÿr asked.

Kili, their reluctant partner in this matter, glared at the sheaf of translated text. "_The area for healing must lie within the pattern of the diamond.._."

"This part is the diamond," she pointed to the space formed between the upper x and the lower. "And they mean the area of the patient's body…so if you had a broken leg, the leg must be positioned within the diamond. Correct?"

Kili made an _if you say so_ face. "It's ancient Dwarvish," he shrugged. "It's always vague."

"The diamond is big enough to lay most of me inside," Dwalin said, stripping off his last layer of clothing and tossing it aside. Nÿr had two plain-spun pieces of cloth, and as he lay on his back within the pattern, she draped one over his lower body and the other over his chest.

She knelt, rolling back the cloth to reveal his stomach, including the area on his right side that held the hardened mass.

"_Use the twin rods, one in each hand._ You've seen the drawing…" Kili went on.

Nÿr rose and went to the wall cabinet, opened it, and looked at the two slender rods set in a small rack; each one was about the length of her arm.

_Moment of truth_, she thought. She had not tried touching them yet, but they had to be like the staff in the King's Hall, the one used with the Circle of _Ahyrunu, _the ring of mithril that drew truth.

"This damn floor is cold as an ice block," Dwalin complained.

Nÿr looked at Kili, who only looked back. He was not entirely happy about using this room. If she called a halt to this wild experiment, he wouldn't question it.

But it was Dwalin's only hope, and he didn't have much to lose.

She took one rod in each hand, much like Fili with his twin swords at the ready, and she turned to face her patient.

At first, nothing happened. Then, a faint buzzing in the rods and a bright white shimmer ran from her hands to the tips.

"Daughter of Durin," Kili said, a hint of approval in his voice.

She widened her eyes at him as if to say _here goes_, and then went to Dwalin's side.

The aging warrior nodded his readiness.

From here on, it worked very much like the Circle, except the two rods operated something like a drafter's compass. One point would anchor to the mithril pattern, the other to the patient's wound, or in this case, his tumor. Bringing the tops together would transfer the mithril spell from one rod to the other.

"Make sure you're clear," Kili said. "You can't let yourself touch the pattern."

She checked her knees. "I have a good six measures of space," she told him.

"_Hold the rod to the wound first,_" he read._ "Then touch the other to the pattern. Slowly join the two_."

She heard him take a breath as she positioned the rod in her left hand so its tip rested on the center area of Dwalin's tumor.

They all expected the one in her right hand, if it was anything like the staff used on the Circle of _Ahyrunu_, to spark or light up when it touched the mithril.

"I'm ready," Dwalin murmured. "Whatever happens…"

"_Muhudur_, Mahal," Nÿr said, invoking a healer's prayer often used on the battlefield. "_Tashurruk azaghâl vusut_." Your blessing, Mahal, to surround your warrior with healing.

She touched the rod in her right hand to the mithril pattern in the floor.

At first, once again, nothing seemed to happen.

Then Dwalin raised his eyebrows. "Oh!" he said.

"What?"

"It's warming!"

Then she saw light—not the sparking energy of the Circle, but a pearlescent pulsing that became more apparent every beat.

"Is that…?" she looked at Dwalin to see if he sensed it.

"My heartbeat!" He looked surprised.

It seemed a bit fast to her, but then again, he had to be nervous.

"Try breathing deep and relaxing. See if you can slow it down."

He did.

Nodding to him, Nÿr let the tips of the rods touch.

Instant blindness, like the silent flash of blasting powder—the room lit up so bright that she turned her head, clenching her eyes shut.

Nÿr separated the tips in alarm and the light vanished.

"Mahal's _hell_," Kili said. He was out of the chair, standing as if ready to do something…what, he likely didn't know. "Are you all right?"

"Just surprised," Nÿr said, blinking.

"It felt warm," Dwalin said with wonder in his voice, waving a hand toward his side. "But that's all."

Nÿr leaned forward to look at his tumor. She was familiar with it, and her eye could see the faint outline under the skin. But it looked no different.

"I don't know what to expect, but l want some references." She looked at Kili. "Do you have anything to write with?"

He patted pockets. A drafting pencil, a sturdy metal quill, and a grease pen of the sort used to write duty rosters on stone.

"Yes," she said pointing to the grease pen. He handed it over. She set the rods aside and quickly dotted an outline around the tumor, feeling it to be sure she had the irregular shape. "It's a bit warm to the touch," she said.

Dwalin nodded.

"Let's try again, and I'll hold it for a count of thirty—but call out if you want me to stop."

"Aye."

They expected the flash this time, and as Nÿr counted out loud, she noticed that the brightness wasn't steady…it came in uneven waves. When she reached thirty, she separated the rods and the light vanished.

"You all right?"

"Just the warmth," Dwalin said.

She looked at the outline of the tumor. "There might be a slight change…" She wasn't sure, however. "Can you do another count of thirty?"

Dwalin nodded.

She checked the positioning of the rods and repeated the process, bright light and all.

She checked the outline again, but honestly didn't see any change. She set the rods aside to palpitate the tumor. She shook her head.

"I need to do something more, I think…I'm not really getting it."

Kili went back to the translated notes.

Dwalin shifted a bit under her exam, a sign that his tumor remained painful.

"The last time Fili used the circle," Dwalin said. "The slagheads had his son. I've rarely seen him draw the spell so quickly or so strong."

"He was angry," Kili's tone was critical. He didn't much like his brother using that circle.

"But he needed that anger," Dwalin said. "Understand? His emotions drive it. It's like…battle fervor. His need for truth is what drives that spell."

"So what I need is to save a life…" Nÿr said slowly, then shook her head. "But healers train to step aside from emotion."

Kili looked at her, his face somber.

"What?"

"You don't do it without emotion…you just delay your emotion."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Do you remember the nightmares?" he asked. "The ones you had after that skirmish with the slagheads?"

Nÿr nodded. "How could I forget…"

"She was upset," Kili said to Dwalin. "About using her healer knowledge to kill a goblin."

"I'd say that was smart," Dwalin said.

"But she's a healer—hard to reconcile the two, so the nightmares." He looked at her. "Do you remember what I told you?"

"That I had to make peace with myself to make the nightmares go away." Nÿr looked at him, at his steady brown eyes. "You got me to admit that while I am a healer, I would kill a goblin to save a child."

He nodded.

And damned if she didn't feel a deep-seated echo of that in her gut right now.

Kili looked into her eyes. "In your nightmare, it was Iri they had. Do you remember how you felt?"

Nÿr swallowed. She nodded. It was a burning anger, like coal-fire in her core. She even felt a flush of fight or flight speeding up her heartbeat.

"There's a child this time, too," Kili goaded her. "A little lass who will never know her father…"

"Kili," Dwalin's voice was a warning.

Kili held up his hand. His voice quieted, taking her back to that night-time conversation when he'd soothed her nightmare. Only this time he wasn't soothing. "Would you kill a goblin to get that lass to her father? What if it was Iri and Fili couldn't get to her?"

Nÿr understood him now. He was intentionally triggering her feelings around this. And it was working. She closed her eyes and opened herself to the raw emotion.

"Would you kill the goblin?" his words were a challenge.

She nodded. The fire was in her chest now—in her heart.

"You know exactly how to do it, don't you..."

She nodded again. For a moment, she was back on the battlefield on the western slope, the horror of watching a goblin swing at Fjalar but hit Skirfir when her friend shielded the young prince. And then her blood was full of battle rage and her hands were around the abandoned spear, lifting the sharpened point and lunging—with that moment of purely clinical logic: _stab the soft stomach, and angle upwards to get the heart._

The goblin was well and truly dead.

"Is that tumor," Kili whispered now, "So very different from a goblin?"

"Get out of the way," she growled.

She didn't see his grim smile as he sat back.

This time she held that fury in her heart as she touched the rods.

_Get away from this child_, she raged.

The bright flash was steady this time, and she felt heat—searing, beautiful heat that matched her anger. In her mind, that tumor wore a goblin's face: snaggle toothed, twisted, snot-ridden…

She had no idea how long she held the rods in position, how long the spell worked.

But she heard Dwalin cry out, heard Kili shouting.

Then realized that the light had vanished and that Kili had pulled her back, his arms around her.

"Drop the rods," he ordered, his voice firm.

She let them go. Heard them hit the floor.

She felt numb. Her mind seemed to be floating somewhere…

Her eyes found Dwalin, limp and unconscious on the floor.

She looked at him in horror._ What have I done?_


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Nÿr stared at Dwalin, lying limp on the floor in the unused room in Erebor's infirmary. Her intended, Kili, held her back, having just disrupted the mithril spell known as the The Ward of _Vustîn._

"Kili," she gasped. "His tumor!"

On the bare skin of Dwalin's abdomen, she could see a fading light, as if a glowing opal lay just under the skin, slowly extinguishing itself.

She broke free of Kili's arms.

"Nÿr," he cautioned, his voice rough.

She touched Dwalin's forehead, checked his pulse, and placed a hand on his chest to feel it rising and falling.

"He's breathing, good heartbeat…"

Then she checked the tumor…or the place where the tumor had been.

She looked up at Kili, eyes wide. "I think it worked…" she whispered.

He still looked distrustful of the whole process, but he gave her a quick nod. "Can we get him out of here?"

Ten minutes later they had Dwalin on a gurney, rolling him out of the maternity wing. Thank Mahal it was the wee hours of the morning and the passages were deserted.

"In here," Nÿr said, commandeering an alcove generally used for treating broken bones during the daytime hours. It had a curtain and she swooshed it closed for a bit of privacy. Quickly scanning the supply drawers, she opened one and pulled out a waxed paper packet, producing a skunk pod. With her other hand, she grabbed an empty vial.

"Hold your breath," she warned Kili. Then held it under Dwalin's nose and broke it open.

Predictably, he gasped and sat bolt upright.

"Mahal's axe," he sputtered, then said something in Khuzdul that must have been impolite. Kili's expression went blank as he rushed to support Dwalin with an arm around the old dwarf's back.

Nÿr slid the broken pod into the vial and capped it.

"Dwalin?" she was checking his pulse again. "Can you hear me?"

"Aye," he complained, shaking his head as if to clear cobwebs. "I can hear ye. I just can't get that stench out of my…"

"That stench woke you up," Kili said firmly. "Mahal, I thought we'd lost you."

Dwalin looked at his dark-haired cousin, then at Nÿr.

"Do you remember what happened?" Kili asked.

Dwalin stared at them. Slowly, his hand went to his side, his eyes wide at the realization that he could no longer feel the painful mass. It had vanished.

"How do you feel?" Nÿr asked, though she was not sure how she would answer that question herself.

Dwalin blinked. "Like I want to take my axe to a few goblin heads."

Kili raised his eyebrows, then looked at Nÿr, his expression rather sheepish.

* * *

Fili sat on one of the logs by his family's travel wagon, smoking his pipe and cleaning his spare boots when Nama approached, Beka just behind her.

Most of the camp was not up yet, and he recognized that Nama must have planned the visit for the quietest time of the morning.

Good lass, Fili thought, liking Nama more and more. She had a quiet way with Beka and the child was skittish.

Nama bowed formally to him. "Good morning, my Lord," she said. "Nama, at your service."

Fili set his boot and pipe aside, smiled, and stood, returning the bow.

"Fili, at yours and your family's."

Shyly, Beka stood next to Nama, not meeting his eyes. She sketched a quick bow of her own.

"Beka, at your service." She said it too quickly and too softly, but it would do.

"As I am at yours." He bowed, then waited a moment. The lassie fidgeted and glanced at Nama.

Fili decided to sit and make himself less threatening. "Have seat. Sorry it's just a log." He shrugged.

"Thank you." Nama inclined her head. "A log will do." After taking a moment to settle with Beka beside her, she looked up at him. "My Lord, we have had trouble sleeping, and it comes down to a real question," she said.

Fili recognized that this was a prompt for Beka. "Shoot," he said. He waited.

"I want to ask," Beka said, looking at her hands. "Why you think I'm the person you're looking for. I mean, what…if I'm not? What if this is a mistake?"

Fili raised his eyebrows. "Well, first, there was a letter from the healer who attended your birth."

Beka nodded, but she was frowning. "Nama told me. But…" She looked at her boots, one toe rubbing the other. "How do you know it's me? I mean, almost no one knows my real name is Beka. My friends call me Keb. But that doesn't mean..." She shook her head.

Fili took a deep breath. He understood now. "Ah," he said. "Well. Your father is my cousin. Like me, he is of the line of Durin."

She looked up, almost making eye contact, and waited for more.

"There's something special, Beka, about someone born with the blood of Durin in their veins." He stood. "I was about to go do this anyway…" he inclined his head, hand on heart. "I would be honored if you would join me?"

Beka looked at Nama, who smiled encouragingly. They stood.

Fili led the way into the woods toward a small clearing. As he went, he pulled his gauntlet from his belt and passed it to Beka.

"Put that on. It's a bit big, but you can tighten the straps."

She accepted it, but looked at it, brows drawn. "What's it for?"

"It'll protect your arm when I introduce you to one of my friends." He looked up as he walked, scanning the overhead canopy of leaves for signs of Erebor ravens. Beka managed to slip the gauntlet over her forearm.

As they walked into the little clearing, Fili stopped, shading his eyes. Nama helped the lass tighten up the leather straps.

"Stand here a moment," he said. Then walked a few feet away and held up his arm.

His invitation was answered by Huq. The large, jet black bird circled, then spread his wing feathers and swooped in for a landing, feet latching onto Fili's arm.

Beka stared with very wide eyes and bird ruffled his wings and settled.

"Well hello, friend," Fili said softly, hand on heart. "You're a ways from home."

Huq bowed and quorked loudly, pinning Fili with a beady eye. "King on road. Good. Gooood."

Fili smiled. "Thank you for your approval," he said.

Huq bowed again.

"I have someone for you to meet," Fili said. "She's never talked to a raven before, but I think she heard Kaia speaking once. Would you talk to her? The little one. Over there."

Fili watched as Huq eyed Beka, first with his left eye, then with his right. He quorked, then rattled.

Fili carried the large raven closer to Beka and Nama, stepping carefully.

"This is Huq," he said to them. "He's an Erebor raven. Chief of the Erebor Ravens, in fact. So we're quite honored to have his attention."

Huq crouched and ducked his head at Beka.

"Can you repeat what you told me?" He asked the raven.

Huq minced his feet. "King," he said loudly. "King on road. Good. Goooood."

Beka looked stunned, Nama perplexed.

"Beka just heard what he said," Fili looked at her. "But I think Nama did not."

The two lasses looked at each other.

"What did he say?" Nama asked Beka.

"King on road," Beka stammered. "Good."

Fili smiled. "Exactly. You're a Ravenspeaker, Beka. You can hear what he's saying…and he can hear you. Go ahead and introduce yourself."

She blinked. "Like…formal?"

"Just like you did with me this morning. Bow deeply, though—they're a bit sensitive to respect, especially Huq, here."

Huq stood tall now, imperious bird that he was, as if waiting for her compliance.

Fili grinned at him.

Beka nodded to herself, then took a half step forward. "Beka," she said to the Chief Raven, with a little more confidence than earlier. She bowed acceptably low, rose, and said. "At your service."

Fili smiled and looked at Huq.

"Daughter-hen Durin-child." The raven bowed in return.

Fili chuckled. "Very good," he said to Huq. "See," he said to Beka. "The ravens know. They do sort of have their own bird-logic though. Let's see if he'll give you a raven name."

Beka looked puzzled.

"Hold up your arm," Fili said quietly.

She did.

Fili brought Huq close enough to get the hint, and Huq made a short jump to the lassie's arm. The bird ducked his head and made rattling noises.

Fili barked a laugh. "He's an old flirt, I think."

Huq poked his beak at Fili's gauntlet on her arm, considered it, then looked back at Beka with a steady eye.

"Mountain Lassie. Come home now," he eyed her. "Mountain Lassie."

Fili smiled. "There it is. He's just named you! Congratulations."

"Mountain Lassie?" she looked at Huq. "But I've never even seen the Mountain."

"Home. Hoooome."

Fili shrugged at her. "He thinks you belong in Erebor."

Beka could only blink. Nama stared at the large bird, eyes wide.

"No worries. She's on her way, Huq." Fili said, then he changed the subject. "What's on the road this morning?"

Huq looked back at Fili. "Guards. On the road. In the woods. No men, no goblins, no orcs, no elves."

"Good bird," Fili said. "Those are my guards. Thank you."

"No men, no goblins, no orcs, no elves," the bird repeated. Then he looked ready to take flight, but looked confused.

"He's used to a boost," Fili said. "I'll do it." Huq looked at Beka, then puffed his chest feathers.

Fili held up his arm. "Here you go. No need to get fussy."

Huq's feathers went flat again and he jumped back, greeting Fili with a head-bob and a quick rub of his large beak on Fili's sleeve.

"Good flying, Huq," Fili said. "Come talk to Mountain Lassie any time you want. Are you ready?"

The raven crouched and pointed his beak up. Fili lowered his arm a bit, then flung the bird skyward.

Huq flapped, gained altitude, and shot away.

"That," he looked back at Beka, who stood wide-eyed, her arm still in raven position. "Is how I know who you are." He grinned widely. "Only someone with the blood of Durin in their veins can talk to a Raven."

Beka, unaccountably, was shaking, her eyes full of unshed tears.

Fili thought he understood. Awe, the shock of it, the affirmation that she was who he said…it had to be a lot to take in for a lass who'd spent months hiding her identity, her very gender.

And he was done with treading lightly around her. The child needed love, damn it. He scooped her into a hug and held tight. "Lassie, you're ours. The ravens prove it. You have a family, and we will always defend you and always love you…and we will listen to you when you tell us what you want to do. Do you hear me?"

Stiff at first, she finally melted into him and nodded, pent up tears releasing in sobs. Her arms, when they came around him, clutched hard, as if holding tight meant she couldn't lose him. Feeling a bit teary himself, he looked at Nama, who had covered her mouth with her hands.

"Just let it out, lass," he murmured to his young cousin. He rubbed her back and rocked her, just as he would one of his own children. She was entitled, he figured. Nama came closer, offering her support with a hand on Beka's arm.

"Tell you what," Fili said after a while, soothing her. "Come out with me every morning and I'll teach you all about ravenspeaking. Would you like that?"

She nodded, unable to speak though her tears.

Nama offered a hankie. Fili relaxed his embrace, pulling back to look at her and push the stray hair off her forehead.

"Did you mean it?" Beka asked him.

"All of it," he said. "But which part in particular?"

"Listening to what I want?" There. She finally looked him in the eye.

Fili cupped the girl's face and kissed her forehead very gently. "Always, love. So tell me what you want, young Mountain Lassie..."

She seemed to brace herself.

"I want an axe, and I want to learn to fight with it."

He grinned. "Axe, sword, staff, mace…I expect you to try your hand at all of them," he said firmly. "And I am not surprised in the slightest. You are Dwalin's daughter, and he is the best axe warrior there ever was."

* * *

Two mornings later, Fili and his caravan were much closer to Erebor. He was up before sunrise and Beka was waiting for him, eager to practice ravenspeaking again. He'd seen to it that she'd been given a new gauntlet of her own, sized for a young lass, and she wore it with the first touch of real self-confidence he'd seen.

"Good morning, Mountain Lassie," Fili greeted her, hand on heart. He got a shy hand on heart _and_ a smile in return. When he put his arm out, she came to him willingly. She even leaned into him a bit as they walked together.

"There's a good clearing on the river bank, just up there," he said. "You up for it?"

She nodded.

Good, he thought. His little plan for the morning might just work. He'd been up during the night, responding to a message from the nightwatch. Now, he was rather looking forward to the result.

Fili took her hand and led her down a narrow, overgrown path, the soft dirt of the trail turning to rocky gravel.

"Ravenspeakers are essential in Erebor," he told her as they went. "It's a big mountain. We rely on the ravens to fly reconnaissance and alert us to trouble." He explained the three tasks an apprentice must master and the tradition of the confirmation. "And since there aren't very many sons and daughters of Durin, there aren't many Ravenspeakers to share the duties. We'll need you in the rotation, if you're willing."

She nodded. "I can do that. How many others are there?"

"In Erebor? Ten. You make eleven."

"Are there any other lassies?"

"Iri, but she's too young to be ravenspeaking. And just one other. Lady Nÿr, is a healer trainee. You'll meet her."

And then they came to a river bank in the early morning sun. Several ravens greeted them, circling and calling out.

And there, on a large, sunbleached fallen log, another warrior sat in the morning light with a raven on his arm, having a quiet conversation with the bird.

To Fili, Dwalin looked much as he always did, even if his illness had sapped his strength. In his fur-lined cloak and boots, he looked as imposing as ever, scarred, tattooed, and fierce.

The trick was for Fili to reveal him to Beka as the soft-hearted bear that he really was. First off, introductions would take place while Dwalin was sitting down, relaxed, with a raven as the go-between.

So Fili waved a freindly greeting as they approached. At the same time, he squeezed Beka's hand, reassuring her.

"Any word from Erebor this morning?" Fili called as they approached.

"Aye. They say _no more thunder at the gate_," Dwalin answered. Fili detected a bit of humor in his cousin's tone. That would help.

"I take it," Fili said as they walked up to him. "This means the snowmelt problem is about over."

Dwalin nodded.

The raven on the warrior's arm quorked and bowed at Beka as they came close.

"Mountain Lassie. Durin-child," it announced.

"Who's this?" Fili asked, peering at the bird.

"Corax," Dwalin murmured, holding him up. "Fine young fellow, this one is. Have you met him yet?" He said gently to Beka, who stood very close to Fili. She shook her head.

"I see you have a gauntlet," Dwalin observed. He lifted his chin to indicate that she should raise her arm.

She did.

Corax hopped over, bowed, and rattled.

Fili smiled. "They do that with their young," he said to her. "He's honoring you as a newcomer to the flock."

"Thank you, Corax," she said.

Then Corax looked at her. "Mountain Lassie. Fledge." Then he took wing, leaping into the sky.

Beka looked at Fili for approval, and he smiled. "Good job," he said. Then he waited.

She looked at Dwalin now, and she stood very still. Fili could only wonder what the gruff old warrior looked like to the lass.

"Are you Dwalin?" her voice was small, her eyes round.

"I am." He sat calmly, a gentle smile, a little proud. Eyes moist.

Fili put a careful arm around the lass, assuring her of his protection and support. "This is your father, Beka," he murmured. He took her hand and helped her reach across the space between them.

Dwalin offered his, palm open.

When Beka took it, Fili slowly stood back.

She didn't immediately fling herself into his arms, there were no sobs or declarations. But she did look at Dwalin as if she couldn't take in the sight of the fearsome dwarf warrior who was her father. Fili watched. There was apprehension on her face, but it was mixed with some hope and a little admiration.

Fili backed further away, hearing them exchange small talk. He was superfluous now, he knew.

And he was glad.

He spotted the tall, dark haired, grinning form of his brother nearby. They went to each other and embraced.

Mahal, he missed Kili. He had been so relieved to see him when he'd arrived in the middle of the night.

"Thanks for getting him here," he murmured. He knew full well that Dwalin couldn't have made it to their camp alone or even walked to the clearing by himself. And there was the other reason they had him sitting on that log.

"He's getting stronger every day," Kili said. "Nÿr says he'll be back to his usual grousy self in a few weeks."

"What I want to know is how she did it."

"Don't," Kili said, "Even ask me that for another month, at least."

Fili grinned at him. "Had an interesting time while I was away?"

Kili rolled his eyes.

* * *

****At least one more chapter to follow. HUGE thanks to the followers, favorites, likes, and comments! You guys are awesome and I'm humbled. Hand on heart, Summer.****


	20. Chapter 20

****Here's the last chapter for Kinseekers! Shout out to BlueRiverSteel for her awesome support and a question she posed to me a while back…which inspired the bit of family storytelling in the very last scene. Another shout out to Borys, who keeps me true(ish) to the canon…and to the rest of you: I raise a glass.  
**

**The art prompt for the last scene is on my Pinterest board (Google: Summer Alden Pinterest Durin's Day…) and it's Quick-KISS! By the artist Axcido on deviantart. (Don't worry, Summer Alden is an alias.) If you want the musical reference for the last scene, pick your favorite Wailin' Jennys tune. Their vocals (especially the a cappella vocals) feel very dwarfy to me, the female equivalent to the AUJ "Misty Mountains" song sung by Richard Armitage, et al, especially since they add a lower-range female voice. I can imagine Fili leaning back next to the campfire with his eyes closed, listening to the Wailin Jennys sing _Bright Morning Stars_ or _Long Time Traveller_ and being quite deeply moved.**

**I do have another story brewing…haven't named it yet, but it will cover the Mid-Summer royal visit of King Elessar to Dale. Will be less fluffy and more dire for Kili. When I have the first chapter ready, I'll post an epilogue to this story so followers can jump over to the new one.**

**Huge thanks to all of you.**** You're all so awesome, I can't even say. **

******Here's a round of virtual ale for all…pull up a log and enjoy! :D**

**Love, Summer****

* * *

Chapter Twenty

Fili, King under the Mountain, felt deeply relieved that he'd reached the Lands of Erebor with his little travelling caravan. One more night on the road and they'd be back at the Lonely Mountain.

At least the trip had been a success, Fili reflected. Dwalin sat on his roan pony with his young daughter Beka riding by his side. The lass wasn't quite as chatty as his own little Iri, but she was talking, asking enough questions to rival his son Fjalar. He wondered if Dwalin was aware of how similar they sat in their saddles—square shouldered, straight-backed…the lass, of course, was smaller and had more hair.

"Hello, brother," Kili rode up beside him, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Care to tell me why you're travelling with fifty Hill lasses?"

Fili kept his expression calm. "They're relocating to Erebor."

He could see Kili's grin from the corner of his eye. "Really…? They've packed suddenly, brought no more than will fit inside their saddle bags, they're all well armed, and to a lass, eager to join the Guard." He lowered his voice. "And they act like you're one of the Seven Fathers reborn."

"Stonehelm's doing," Fili looked his brother in the eye. "Stopped training lassies and he's banned them from his troops." He watched Kili's expression change from teasing to serious. "While I, on the other hand, know the value of a good warrior lass in battle. You know where I found our young cousin?"

Kili shook his head.

"Disguised herself as a lad to join the cadets…because her slag-brained foster brother viewed her as his "property" and wanted to arrange a marriage."

Kili glowered. "And the rest of them?"

Fili explained, including the bargain with the mithril ingot and Stonehelm's joke.

"Mahal's hammer, Fee. And he let you take them, just like that?"

Fili shrugged. "An saved it. We are officially sponsoring a cultural exchange. They are the Queen's _Bâhînh._"

Fili took one look at his brother's expression and knew Kili was trying to pick one of a hundred possible comebacks, all highly entertaining at Fili's expense.

"Don't even say it," he warned.

Kili held up both hands in capitulation, but with a smirk.

Fili nodded toward the pair riding ahead of them: Dwalin and his daughter. "Is that not worth it?"

"Yes," Kili's smile softened. "Completely. Good job, o wily King."

They rode in silence for a few paces.

"So, I have an idea," Kili said. "Tell me what you think…"

* * *

If the Hill lasses had been more alert, they would have noticed an increase in the number of ravens coming and going from the hands of their new King and his handsome brother.

If they'd been more used to the ways of the Erebor Guard, they would have known that the King's caravan didn't go anywhere without a battalion of warriors surrounding it. That those warriors travelled unseen and left the caravan in privacy didn't occur to them.

They did hear the roar of a battle challenge issue from the forest on both sides of the trail and it caused panic among the younger ones and instant attention from the older.

"Arm yourselves!" Nama called, hill mace in her hand.

The lasses scrambled, surrounding the youngest.

That's when the King's brother rode back to them, his sword in his hand. Trailing him was Beka, who swiftly rode to join her friends, ready to stand beside them.

"I am Kili, Prince of Erebor, Commander of the Guard and Weaponsmaster," he said to them, raising his sword. "Any of you who would join our ranks as warriors—here's your first chance to show me what you bring! There are two cadet classes in the woods around us," he pointed his sword to the north, then to the south. "This is a practice exercise. Do you understand?" He looked around, making certain that they did. "Give it your best, but everyone's heads remain attached." He grinned.

The experienced fighters suddenly brightened. Clearly they were eager.

The inexperienced lasses, Beka included, still looked dubious and fidgeted nervously.

"We will fight with practice weapons," he pointed to a small cart approaching. "Freshly delivered. So stow your blades, ladies, and help yourself to the implement of your choosing and a red arm band, if you please. This identifies you as the target group to the trainees."

"There will be fifty of you," he went on. "Most of you experienced warriors, against sixty of them, all first year trainees." No one questioned the numbers. The experienced Hill lasses obviously felt the trainees would be easy prey.

"Your ponies," he nodded to the trio of leather-clad outpost guard who'd brought the training weapons, "Will be taken ahead with your travel gear."

He waited while they stowed blades and milled about the cart, making selections from the practice weapons and tying armbands on each other. The ponies were tied in a line and led out.

"Your opponents will be wearing black with white arm bands," he told them as they formed up, Hill-style.

"The eastern outpost is your stopping point tonight. It's about one hour," he pointed, "Due west of here at the base of the foothills beside a small lake. That is your goal: reach the outpost with all fifty of your troop."

Nama was grinning.

Kili grinned back. "I understand our trainees have been out hunting…that means a hearty feast awaits. But that kind of feast is best earned! Are you up for it?"

They cheered.

"Any questions?"

He was answered with a resounding "_Du Bekar_!"

He smiled, honored them with a bow from his saddle, hand on heart. "Let the games begin!" He raised his sword.

In the trees around them, ravens filled the sky. Kili withdrew to the sidelines, turning back in time to see the "ambushed" group looking completely gobsmacked by the silent, swift assault of the combined lad and lass trainees. He spotted Skirfir and Fria, and there—he nudged Fili. Fjalar and a squad of his fellows pounded through, disarming many (but not all) of the older lasses in their first pass.

And then the mock-battle was on the move.

Erebor's King and his best two warriors sat their ponies and watched the melee unfold. They would ride mop-up, keeping an eye out for the accidentally wounded or strays.

The Queen and her children had been escorted on, though the King's young son Gunnar sat in the saddle in front of his father, a pair of practice knives in his hands.

Kili raised an eyebrow at the choice of twin blades.

Fili shrugged and grinned.

Dwalin only had eyes for the young sable-haired lass who was bravely rallying ten other young lasses, all of whom had been quickly disarmed—but only because they had been visibly shocked to find themselves facing a dozen black clad _lasses_ their own age. They had blinked and stood open mouthed as the Erebor lasses raced through, knocked their weapons right out of their hands, and sprinted on, refusing to engage. Now the Hill girls scrambled to retrieve their practice arms and give chase.

"That's it, lassie," Dwalin murmured, smiling proudly. "On your feet and get going."

Kili held up his palm, and Dwalin reached up as if to slap it, but then clasped it tight instead.

"_Sanmal, _lads," he said to the brothers. "Perfect way to spend an afternoon. Thank you."

* * *

Fili couldn't have been more pleased when he saw fifty exhilarated and exhausted Iron Hills lassies trudging through the gates of the Eastern Outpost an hour before sunset. They were greeted by a double line of Erebor trainees who cheered them as they came in. It had been a good fight and the older Iron Hills warriors had shown all of the youngsters, theirs and his, a thing or two. Fili was pleased to see Nama and her older friends had not lost their fighting edge, and he realized it meant they had kept training in secret despite Stonehelm's edicts.

He stood with Kili, facing them with broad grins as they came in, slapping palms with each one in welcome.

"Barracks to the right; clean yourselves up—that roasting venison is almost ready and we've plenty of ale…" Fili said to them.

The feast was a success, he reflected later. Rustic tables and benches filled the outpost's parade ground, with flickering lanterns strung overhead and a roaring bonfire at the center. A line of tables near the roasting pit offered a wealth of meat, eggs, cheeses, pies, and ale barrels. Everyone was invited to fill up and sit down.

Fili made the rounds, liking nothing better than to see everyone well fed, well-watered, and happy.

He noted that Beka and Fjalar sat first with their friends, but Beka joined Dwalin at the nearby family table when Nÿr brought him out after a much needed nap. Unable to stand it, Fjalar had come over, too. Fili greeted his son with a warm embrace and a few private words. And he smiled to see his son offer the same to his mother. Training was good for the lad, he realized, proud to see him looking more grown up.

And he noticed that the Hill lassies were all eyes when they saw Kili greet his beautiful intended Lady Healer with a firm embrace, a showy spin, and a sound kiss that wasn't exactly the chaste variety for public viewing. Nÿr had blushed and laughed, clearly in love with him.

Fili had led the applause.

The Hill lassies hooted their approval.

Lusty wenches, Fili grinned. Maybe there were more than a dozen of the older ones who'd find themselves an Erebor bachelor, after all. He could see the Eastern Outpost lads sitting tall and taking note.

Kili and Nÿr joined the family table with full plates, sitting across from him, next to Fjalar.

An sat to his left, and young Beka to his right, secure between him and Dwalin, drinking nothing more potent than fizzy water.

That's when Fili noticed her looking at him with a puzzled expression.

He raised an eyebrow, recognizing that she must have a question. "Shoot," he said, smiling at her.

"If you lived in Erebor and Lady An lived in the hills…how did you even meet?"

"Ah," Dwalin smiled and lifted his ale for a deep drink.

Fjalar looked just as interested.

"Fili heard her singing," Kili said, winking. "That was all it took," he made a _done deal_ gesture with his hands.

"She came to Erebor with a trade caravan," Fili told Beka. "Her father made his fortune off me from cloth and leather…Mahal knows we had a lot of gold back then but not a decent stitch of clothing."

Kili grinned. "And the heat was on for a marriage and an heir," he elbowed Fjalar. "So every time a group of traders rolled in, they seemed to have a pack of ladies along like no one's business."

Fili laughed. "Not that I was all that interested…" he shrugged. "We were under constant threat of war in those days. Place was full of bachelors, though…those ladies had the pick of the lads."

Kili laughed. "Once they figured out they couldn't catch you."

"So one afternoon I come into the King's Hall," Fili went on. "And this cheeky visiting lass is just standing in there by herself, singing." Fili had hold of his lady wife's hand now. "It was the most beautiful music…I just stood there, listening. When she was done, she told me she couldn't help herself…that she loved Erebor," he shrugged. "All the other lasses loved their hair or their dresses."

An rolled her eyes. "I meant the acoustics. Sound just echoes and resonates with all that stone…"

"All I did was tell her she sang beautifully," Fili said.

An looked around him at Beka. "And I had heard my whole life that singing was a waste of time, that no one wanted to hear it. You know how Hill folk get…"

Beka nodded. She did.

"I liked it," Fili said. "I asked her to sing some more."

"So I did," An smiled. "Until the seventh bell. Then I panicked-I wasn't supposed to be in the hall…I was sure my father would be livid."

Fili held out a hand. "So she started to run off…I didn't even know who she was. I said _wait a minute…!_"

"I was so afraid I'd be in trouble," An said.

Fili looked at Beka. "And she ran back, grabbed me _by my braids_, mind you," he pantomimed. "And said, _my name is An_, and kissed me—full on, just like that. Turned tail and ran." He made a leaving motion with his hand, his expression an echo of the affronted reaction he must have had at the time.

An shrugged. "I was just so thrilled that he liked the music…I really had no idea who he was."

Kili picked up the story. "But your Da's brother, old Balin, had seen it all. After that kiss, he went on a _strike while the iron is hot_ mission…"

"Aye," Dwalin smiled and looked down at his daughter. "That he did."

Fili held up his hands. "Next thing I knew, negotiations had started."

Kili was laughing. "You should have seen his face at the council meeting—bright red…completely flummoxed, like he had no idea how he landed there."

An was laughing, too. "We didn't see each other without a hundred people in the room for the next two weeks." She sipped her ale.

"Next thing I knew, the ceremonies were over," Fili said, "I had a lady wife, and she wanted to know where the royal suite was."

An set her mug down with a thud. "There wasn't one."

Kili shrugged. "We slept with the guard."

An rolled her eyes. "I had to insist on a bedroom _with a bed_. Took me a week to get one."

Fili was grinning. "And another month for me to get her into it."

Kili raised his mug in a silent toast, and everyone, even Beka, raised their drinks and drank deep.

An was laughing. "And all those months later, Fjalar was born and that's when I knew."

Fjalar was grinning.

Beka frowned. "Knew what?"

Iri was trying to crawl into her father's lap. Fili set down his mug and scooped her up and she threw her arms around his neck, her head against his shoulder.

An tilted her head at them. "That he may be a warrior and a King, but he's really just a big pushover for babies."

Fili lifted his mug to lead the toast this time. "To the children of Durin," he said, smiling warmly at Beka's wide eyes and then nodding at his firstborn son. "Erebor's truest wealth."

"Aye," Dwalin echoed, grasping Beka's hand and touching mugs with her.

They retired to the logs and benches around the campfire, then, well secure inside the walls of the Eastern Outpost.

"What did you sing?" Beka asked An, as they settled.

"Hill songs, of course," she said.

"Nah," Fili said, reclining against a log next to his brother. "That first one was much older. I remember my mother singing it in the Blue Mountains."

"What song?" Nÿr asked. She had settled in front of Kili, snug between his knees, her hands entwined with his.

An stood then, her voice rising clear and strong in the evening air. Nÿr, recognizing the old tune, stood to take up the harmony after two lines.

To everyone's surprise, Nama walked slowly over and joined them, adding a much deeper feminine voice to the song. It was in many ways the lassie's response to the sort of song lads sang when they left on quests. The song of the ones who stayed behind.

Fili noticed Iri and Beka sitting up, their attention riveted on the harmonies.

But he leaned back, closed his eyes and listened, recalling not so much his mother this time as his Uncle Thorin, who loved music and sang well.

He reached for his brother, his hand finding Kili's shoulder.

Kili reached up and gripped his arm.

His kin and kith, Fili reflected, surrounded them in peace, including three Daughters of Durin, young and promising.

Somewhere, he knew, Thorin Oakenshield was smiling down on them tonight.


	21. Chapter 21

****Hey, all. Short very fluffy Epilogue to Kinseekers, which really was all about kin and children, and ends on a related note with this little silly bit. I am declaring that story complete! **

**Immediately following is a tease for the first chapter of the NEXT story, which you will see is decidedly not-fluffy and offers a complete change in tone. The new story is titled Warhammers…and I invite you to mosey on over, take a look, and add it to your alert list! (Apparently my story brain is on a roll, so I'm going with it!) **

**Mahal's blessings…****

* * *

Epilogue

Kili had not forgotten his promise to accompany Nÿr to the naming ceremony of a certain newborn. Two weeks after the birth of a child was, after all, the traditional time for it.

Wali and Rúna named their little snowmelt lad Alvar, and were thrilled to see their Prince and their midwife in attendance.

On the way back, Kili strolled alongside his intended through Erebor's hub, grateful for a chance to be out on the open-air walkways in the quieter time of the evening. It glowed with a beautiful, soft golden light from long strings of suspended oil-lamps and felt like being inside a vast, glittering jewel. They made their way to a particular balcony, the one with a view twenty levels straight down, dotted with light sparkling into the depths.

"Will that be us someday?" Nÿr asked, standing beside him, their hands clasped tight.

"At a naming ceremony?" Kili smiled. He looked down at her. "If you want to. Erebor's got plenty of heirs. I think this is your Choice, sweetheart."

"What do you want? One? Two? None?"

Kili grinned. "What I want…" he mischievously took both her hands and backed her playfully against a pillar, leaning forward to kiss her deeply. His hands came up to tilt her head so he could nibble her ear.

"Yes?" She snaked her arms around his waist, pulling him closer.

"What I want," he went for her neck now. "Is however many you want."

She laughed, "Good answer, I suppose." She reached into her pocket for something she had purposefully put there and pulled out a small dragonstone raven. She handed it to him. "Did you know that Skirfir is getting harder and harder to find? I think you're working that lad far too much."

Kili grinned. He reached inside a pocket for something he'd obviously put there and handed her an odd, old key on a blue silk cord.

They both laughed, then he brought his nose close to hers, peering into her eyes.

"What are you doing?" she giggled.

"Checking your eyes to see if they're dilated."

She laughed and pushed him back an inch. "Whatever for?"

"Fili says it's a dead giveaway. He's been coaching me."

Nÿr frowned now. "Giveaway for what?"

"Fili calls it…" he started laughing.

"What?"

"Fili says it's the first sign of _broody mama time_."

Nÿr gasped. "He does not…!"

Kili shook his head at her. "But you're not there yet. Your eyes look pretty normal to me."

"Well I've got news for him," Nÿr giggled. "It doesn't happen the same way for any two ladies…so he can coach you all he wants…"

Kili just raised an eyebrow.

She took his hand now, leading him to the stairs. The rest of this conversation would be much better held under entirely different conditions.

"Out of curiosity, what else does Fili say?"

Kili kept his expression bland. "To never talk about it. Can't let the family secrets out. Erebor would be over-run."

Nÿr still looked puzzled.

"The lad's got four children, Nÿr. He must be doing something right."

"Three," Nÿr said suddenly.

Kili looked at her, not following.

"Children. Three. That's enough. And I've already got the names."

Kili's eyes went wide, and he stopped halfway down the staircase. He started to reply, then didn't, as if suddenly understanding that fatherhood really was part of the whole marriage contract thing.

"Oh, love. Your face! Priceless."

* * *

**Preview for **

**Erebor 3022: Warhammers, a Courtship Year Story (Number 4)**

Chapter One

Skirfir, young Lieutenant of the Erebor Guard, had never seen anything as frightening as the lightning fast, towering, ugly, many-legged thing coming at them.

But from the wide-eyed alarm on Kili's face, he was certain his prince knew exactly what it was.

"Run!" Kili pushed him to the side. They ducked under a downed tree and took off, Kili in the lead. Skirfir followed, forgetting about careful footholds as they slid recklessly down a bank into a stream.

They pounded up the narrow gulch, shot up the steep bank on the other side and hurdled over the underbrush. When Skirfir started right for the cadet camp, he felt a solid hand on his collar, swinging him left instead.

"Away! Lead them away!" Kili veered him south and sprinted ahead, his sword in his hand. Skirfir put his head down to follow, arrow in one hand, bow in the other. They charged on at a full run.

And then one was ahead of them, blocking their way with a hissing screech and a threatening array of waving limbs. Skirfir could see Kili's blade whirling, pieces of giant spider leg flying…but the damn thing had too many. The loss of one or two didn't slow it down.

Skirfir put the brakes on and knocked an arrow.

"Go for the eyes!" Kili yelled, jerking his sword free of pincers and swinging for the head.

Skirfir shot. The target moved far too fast for any hope of a clean hit, but he managed three more arrows. At least two caused damage—but like it's many legs, the thing had a cluster of eyes…not just two.

But it bought Kili enough time to aim for the space under a leg joint and thrust his blade deep, pull it back, and swing it around for a death blow.

"Behind you," he shouted, spurring Skirfir back into action. They headed for a rocky formation not far off.

"What the hell are they?" Skirfir shouted as he followed.

"Mirkwood spiders…" Kili called back, shouldering through leafy undergrowth. "They shouldn't be on the western slope."

Skirfir winced as a branch of leather-leaf slapped his face. "Someone's routed them?"

"Yes!"

They charged across a small clearing. Skirfir could see Kili scanning the sky as he ran.

"Raven! Need a raven!"

Two spiders emerged right behind them.

"Cave!" Skirfir called, spotting an opening in the rocks ahead. They charged full-bore up a rock face, then Skirfir felt Kili hook his jacket and pull him under an overhang. Together, they plowed to the back wall, getting as much distance from the spiders as they could get. They both stopped, heaving for breath, but spider legs reached in after them, stabbing and feinting.

Kili severed two, and Skirfir shot blindly for the body.

He was running out of arrows.

****The new story and entire first chapter has been posted—so come on over!****


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